


Fallen Star

by pineapplefan



Category: Stand By Me (1986)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 46,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplefan/pseuds/pineapplefan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eyeball Chambers wasn't looking to change. But when he meets and finds a friend in Denny Lachance, his entire perspective of the world gets turned upside down. Not slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. Just a quick note: Although I have read the book adaptation of Stand By Me (and loved it), I am writing this story solely based on the information we receive in the movie. By doing this, it allows me to be more creative with back-stories and characterization. That being said, there will be some things in this story that are inconsistent with the book. For example, in the book, Eyeball drops out of school in the 10th grade. In this story he is still in school. Also, in the book Denny is portrayed as distant from Gordie, but I will be portraying him more like how he was in the movie (a good brother, smart, kind, etc.). I think that's all you need to know for now! Thank you for reading!

My walk to school on the first of March was a rough one. For many reasons. For starters, it was snowing. In _March_ , for cryin' out loud. Leave it to Castle Rock to pull a fast one on you like that. It wasn't snowing quite enough for school to shut down, but believe me; it was snowing enough to make you curse Mother Nature.

Secondly, I'd woken up feeling like I'd been run over by a truck. I had the worst headache of my life and my entire body ached. But I dragged my hind parts out of bed anyway because I'd rather be sick and miserable at school than sick and miserable at home with my belligerent father. He worked night shifts at the tire manufacturing company based right outside of Castle Rock, so he was always home during the day.

But the most binding reason that I went to school that day was because of my geometry teacher, Mr. Bates. He caught me cheating last week on his test and threatened me with everything under the sun. He said he could even keep me from graduating if he wanted to.

Luckily, the guy can't stand me. None of the teachers can and I think it's a general consensus that they just want me out of the place. I've been held back two years already as it is. So Bates cut a deal with me. In order to graduate, I have to stay after school three times a week and work with a geometry tutor. And then at the end of the semester I have to take a test, he'll be watching me closely he says, and if I get a B or better, he'll pass me.

Insanely, I agreed to this deal. Mainly because I didn't have any other choice. I was just glad I wasn't facing suspension. When my kid brother, Christopher, stole the milk money at his school, he got a three-day vacation and my dad lost it. Chris suffered a broken nose, a broken arm, and he won an overnight stay at the hospital. If Pops heard I didn't graduate because I cheated on some dumb test, I might never see the light of day again. It's funny how the old man doesn't have any morals of his own, but the second he gets wind of us doing something wrong, he'll smack us down. If you ask me, he just likes an excuse – any excuse – to knock us senseless. Yeah, it's fucking sidesplitting.

Anyway, today was the day that I started the "tutor sessions." If I missed the first day, Bates would have my throat. There was a 0% chance that he'd believe I was actually sick. So I took a bunch of Advil, braved the cursed snow, and found myself struggling to stay awake throughout all of my classes.

* * *

By lunchtime all I wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position and die. I'm not exaggerating either. I didn't even have enough energy to bully freshmen for their lunch money. I just went straight to the corner lunch table and collapsed into a seat. I'm pretty sure the table hadn't been wiped off in approximately… ever… but I didn't care. I put my head down on that grimy surface and covered by head with my arms to block out the light. Advil hadn't done squat.

I'd only had about three minutes of peace when goddamn Charlie Hogan knocked on the top of my head and dropped his lunch tray onto the table. "Eyeball, look alive."

I groaned and sat up. "Impossible."

Charlie was the only other guy from our gang that hadn't dropped out of school. He was graduating this year too because he hadn't been held back like me. He was the youngest of our gang and probably the smartest too. That being said, he'd never seen anything higher than a C in his life, but at least he got them consistently.

"Man, you look like shit," Charlie stated bluntly. He took a big bite out of his meatloaf and with his mouth full he asked, "You hung over or somethin'?"

 _I wish_ , I thought. Even though hangovers were almost as awful as I felt right now, at least when I was hung over I knew I'd brought it upon myself. But this, what the hell did I do to deserve this? "No, it's a migraine or somethin'." I crinkled up my nose as the smell from Charlie's unsightly meatloaf finally reached my nostrils. I pushed his tray farther away. "Keep that shit away from me. It's gonna make me hurl."

* * *

When the bell rang for my last class, I was relieved. Just two more hours. Two more hours and then I could crash at Ace's and sleep the rest of the day. Nothing sounded better than curling up in a bed. Even if it was Ace's old cot where you could feel every damn lump and spring. I just wanted a bed. Any bed would do.

Unfortunately, my last class was geometry. That meant I'd spend one hour in class and then another hour after school with whatever suck-up nerd Bates stuck me with. That much geometry at once should be illegal. I couldn't have been more thrilled.

Anyway, on my way to Bates' class, I got really dizzy. So dizzy that I had to take a detour into the men's restroom. I told the freshman who was washing his hands at the sink to beat it. I wanted to be able to vomit in peace if it came to that. He made a squeaking sound and scurried out of the room. I swear, people at this school are so afraid of me. It's great.

I closed myself into the last stall and sunk down onto the floor. _This migraine is really kicking my ass_ , I thought to myself as a wave of nausea washed over me. I hoisted myself up over the edge of the toilet bowl and waited. I knew it was coming and I just wanted to get it over with. I could feel myself starting to sweat and my saliva getting thick. The room was spinning all around me and my stomach couldn't take much more. Before I knew it, I was expelling everything I'd eaten the past couple of days into the bowl before me.

It took me a while to get a hold of my bearings after heaving my guts out for so long. But when I did, I realized, much to my relief, that my head felt a thousand times better and everything had stopped spinning. The tradeoff was that I felt super weak and even a little bit shaky.

Knowing I was already about 15 minutes late to class, I knew I couldn't waste any more time in the bathroom. Reluctantly, I pulled myself up and used most of my remaining energy to walk to the geometry classroom.

I arrive late to class a lot, so I'm used to having everybody's eyes on me when I enter the room. But today I was a little more self-conscious. I knew I looked like hell the second I stepped into the classroom because whispers swept over the crowd. I just kept my head down and went straight to my assigned seat in the front of the classroom.

"So nice of you to join us, Mr. Chambers," Bates said flatly, without even turning around from the chalkboard.

I couldn't think of a smart-ass reply so I just sunk down lower in my seat and stared at my desk until class was over.

* * *

Finally, it was just me and Bates left in the classroom. I was really fighting falling asleep at this point. Bates was erasing the chalkboard. When he was finished, he turned around to face me.

"You know Chambers, coming late to class isn't part of the deal. That'll be unacceptable from here on out, you understand me?"

I would've explained to him why I was late if I thought it would do me any good. But I knew it wouldn't and I wasn't up for fighting any losing battles today. So I just nodded and mumbled a scornful "yessir."

"Good," Bates said firmly. He leaned up against the front of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. "Now, when your tutor gets here, you are to treat him with respect. Is that understood?"

I rolled my eyes, but nodded.

Mr. Bates checked his watch. "He should be here any minute now." And then, as if I cared, he started talking up my oh-so-highly anticipated tutor. "He's taking calculus this year but did very well in geometry last year. He offered to tutor you because he needs some volunteer hours to apply to some academic programs…"

And that's when I zoned out.

"Oh look, here he is now," Bates said after what seemed like ages of rambling. He was beaming at the classroom door.

I followed his gaze to the door and groaned inwardly. The fuckin' town hero of Castle Rock, Denny Lachance, stood in the doorway.

As if this day couldn't get any worse.


	2. Chapter 2

In Castle Rock, Dennis Lachance was basically the equivalent to Jesus. Everybody knew who he was and they _worshipped_ him. He was the town stud, the man of the hour, _every_ hour. It was sickening. Just because he was a 4.0 student and got a full-ride to Michigan State to play football, the town thought they had to hold him up on a pedestal. I think people were just shocked that anything good could actually come out of this godforsaken town. But it was a total nag hearing Lachance's name every time you turned around.

And here I was, stuck spending time with this high-and-mighty asshole for the next two and a half months. That thought certainly didn't help the nausea I was already experiencing.

"Dennis, thank you for coming," Mr. Bates said, reaching out to shake Denny's hand.

"Not a problem, sir," Denny answered, and then he grinned at me. I just glared at him.

"I'm going to let you two get started. I'll be down the hall in my office if you need anything." Then, almost as if I wasn't sitting there, he said, "Just do your best with this one. It'll be like teaching a chimp."

That would've stung if I gave two shits about what Perry Bates thought of me.

Denny laughed nervously until Mr. Bates disappeared out the door. Then he pushed the door shut behind him and stopped laughing at once. He turned around to face me. "Geez, what a dick," he said. "You must really be on his bad side, huh?"

"You can say that again," I mumbled, raising my eyebrows. I was slightly caught off-guard from hearing the school's most famous teacher's pet call Mr. Bates a "dick." It was true, I just never thought I'd hear it from the golden boy.

Denny let out a deep breath and flopped down into the desk next to mine. Then he shrugged off his letterman jacket and turned the desk to the left so he was facing me. "I'm Denny Lachance," he said, extending his arm to shake hands.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I know. I'm—"

"Richard Chambers," Denny interrupted, before I had a chance to finish. Realizing I wasn't going to shake his hand, he pulled his arm back and dropped it by his side.

"People call me 'Eyeball,'" I told him. For as long as I could remember that had been my nickname. I had a lazy eye, my left one. I used to hate it when I was younger because kids would tease me for it. But since then, it's sort of become my trademark.

"I like Richard better," Denny said simply as he started leafing through the geometry book he brought. When he landed on a page about congruent triangles, he let out a sigh. "I guess we ought to get started. Tell me what you know about congruency."

"I don't know squat," I told him honestly. I was already bored.

Denny laughed. "Maybe this will be like teaching a chimp," he joked, smiling innocently at my death stare. "Look, it's not that hard." He passed the book over to me. "Two shapes are congruent if they're the same size and shape. That means their corresponding sides are the same length and their corresponding angles have the same measure."

"Okay." I couldn't even pretend to care about any of this.

Denny was studying my face carefully. "You get it?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," I confirmed. It actually did make sense. "What's next?"

"Similarity," he answered, turning the page. "When the corresponding angles of two shapes have the same measure and the lengths of the sides are in proportion. In other words, same shape, just a different size."

That made sense too. As much as I hated to admit it, Denny was already a much better teacher than Bates could even dream about being. Fucking wonder boy to the rescue again…

It went on like this for a good half hour. Denny repeated things we'd gone over in class, but in a way I could understand them. The trouble was, I was having trouble keeping my concentration. My goddamn headache had returned.

When Denny started explaining the basics of trigonometry, I just couldn't will myself to listen anymore. My head was pounding way too hard and I had intense pain behind my eyes. I squeezed my lids shut and let my head fall into my hands. Denny continued to ramble on.

"…Rich?"

I snapped my head up at the mention of my name. It was weird being called something other than 'Eyeball' or 'Chambers.' "What?" I asked through gritted teeth. Denny was holding a pencil out to me.

"I wanted you to try this practice problem…" he said slowly, frowning as he studied my face. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy," I mumbled, grabbing the pencil from him. I looked down at the paper he'd put in front of me. I blinked a couple of times trying to focus my eyes, but it was no use. Everything was starting to spin again, and my stomach didn't like it.

I could feel Denny's eyes on me.

"Hey, uh, I'm gonna take a leak," I told him, dropping the pencil on the table as I stood up. "I-I'll be right back." Using as much energy as I could muster, I bolted out of the classroom and into the empty hallway, praying to the heavens that Denny wouldn't follow me.

Almost blindly, I found my way back into the restroom and dropped down on the floor of the nearest stall. _Round two_ , I thought reluctantly as I became acquainted with the toilet bowl for the second time today.

Much to my dismay, Denny came into the bathroom once I started throwing up for the second time that day. Since I had hardly anything left in my stomach, it was just painful bile that came up. It hurt so much, but I couldn't stop heaving.

"Peachy my ass," Denny said from beyond the stall door. "You alright in there, Chambers?"

I was gagging too much to answer him, but I wanted very much to tell him to go fuck himself. _Yeah, I'm the poster of health_ , I thought sarcastically.

When my stomach finally settled, I flushed the toilet and reluctantly emerged from the stall. Denny was leaning against the sink wearing his letterman jacket and holding my book bag out to me. "C'mon," he said. "I'll drive you home."

I grabbed the bag from him. "No need," I told him. The last thing I wanted was charity from Denny Lachance. "I ain't goin' home anyway."

"Then I'll drive you wherever you're goin'," he told me. "C'mon, man, you look like hell."

I sighed. I really wasn't in any condition to pass up a ride. Ace's place was a good mile and a half away.

So I succumbed and followed Denny out to his baby blue, snow-covered Coupe de Ville. Leave it to Lachance to have one of the nicest cars in town.

After Denny had brushed the snow off the car, I gave him the directions to Ace's and then rested my head up against the cool glass of the window. It felt good against my hot skin.

Denny attempted to make conversation with me during the ride. "I know your little brother," he said. "He and my brother are good friends so I see Chris around a lot. Nice kid."

"He's a fuckin' pussy," I mumbled, hoping that'd get Denny to shut up. It did and I enjoyed the rest of the car ride in peace. Why he thought I gave a crap who Christopher hung around with was beyond me.

"Well, here we are," Denny said happily as he pulled up in front of Ace's place. "No need to thank me."

"Good, 'cause I wasn't going to," I said, opening the door.

Denny chuckled. I honestly didn't see what was so funny. "I like this banter we've got going between us," he said.

"Whatever." I grabbed my bag and slammed the door shut. Then I started making my way up to Ace's sorry excuse for a house. It was more like a shack, really.

"Hey, feel better, man," Denny called after me through the open window of his car. I turned around to face him and he waved. Then he revved his engine and took off down the street.

I watched him go from Ace's porch, not wanting to admit to myself that maybe Denny Lachance wasn't so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up, much unpleasantly, to a wet-willy in my ear and Ace Merrill puffing a cigarette above me.

"Jesus Christ, Ace," I growled at him. I grabbed part of the bed sheet and dried my ear out. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"

"The realest," Ace said proudly. He put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand and then he threw my jeans at me. "Get up, Nancy Boy. We've got a deal to close. Why the hell are you sleeping now, anyway?"

I ignored his question and rubbed the lids of my eyes tiredly. "Ace, I thought you said you weren't gonna deal no more." Ace had been involved in some drug dealing as a side to his day job. Sometimes I'd go on deals with him as backup.

"I lied," he said simply. "Imagine that. Now get up."

But I shook my head. "No way. I ain't going with you after what happened last time. Get Vince or Billy to do it."

"God, could you be any more of a pussy?"

"I was shot!" I exclaimed.

"You were _grazed_." Ace retaliated, but I think he could tell I wasn't backing down because he let out an exasperated sigh. "You know what? Fine. I'll get fucking Billy Tessio to come with me. Fucking _pussy_." With that, Ace kicked the leg of the cot and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Okay, so maybe I was exaggerating. But the last job I went on with Ace did end up pretty badly. We'd been shot at, only because fuckin' Ace had given the guy bogus goods. In fairness, Ace didn't know, he was just the middleman, or at least that's what he told me.

Anyway, we were in a motel room and the guy was playing it off like everything was cool. But then out of nowhere, he reached into the ice bucket and pulled out a handgun. Ace dropped the bogus drugs on the ground and we bolted out of there. He shot after us, three times. He was only aiming to injure because he was only shooting at our feet, but it was scary all the same. Just as we were at the door, one of the bullets grazed my left ankle. And fuck, it hurt. But I kept running and we made it out of there. And even though I got a cool scar and a story to tell, after that night I vowed to never go on a job with Ace again.

I squinted at the alarm clock. It was already 7:00. That meant I'd been asleep for a good three and a half hours. I groaned and rolled back over, pulling the covers over my head. I decided to just stay at Ace's for the night. The only reason I ever go home is to eat – cooking is about the only thing my mother is good for – but seeing as my stomach wanted to turn itself inside out at even the thought of food, I decided to just stay put.

I could hear some of the gang's voices outside the door. Ace's place was sort of our main hangout. Normally, I'm a pretty light sleeper and trying to fall asleep with any sort of noise gives me trouble. Unless I'm drunk or hung over that is. But tonight I was so exhausted that the noise didn't bother me at all. Before I knew it, I had drifted back to sleep.

* * *

When I woke up next, it was quiet. And very dark. I stuck my arm out, fumbling around for the lamp on the nightstand beside me. When I found it, I flipped on the switch and winced when the light poured in around me.

Once my eyes had adjusted, I looked at the clock to see what time it was. 3:42 am. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to get a grasp on how I felt. I still had a dull headache, but my nausea had subsided.

I groaned and rubbed my temples. I still felt pretty weak and I was incredibly parched. I didn't feel like moving, but I decided to man up and go get a glass of water from the kitchen (if you can call it that).

Ace's "kitchen" consisted of an icebox, a wobbly table, a sink, and a stove that only had one working burner. Very slowly and with more effort than I'd like to admit, I made my way out to that sorry excuse for a kitchen. But on my way there, I saw something that made what was left of my stomach drop into my toes.

Ace was sitting on the couch, surrounded by empty beer bottles. Flash-forward a couple of months, and that would be a pretty standard sight. But up until this point in my life, I had never seen Ace touch a single drop of alcohol. He always had a cigarette in his mouth, but he never joined in when the rest of us guys drank. And that was, well, pretty much all the time.

I never knew why Ace didn't drink. To be honest, I never really gave it any thought, and the rest of the gang was too intimidated by him to question it. I always just assumed he was enough of a hard ass without the liquid stuff to go along with it.

So anyway, as you can probably imagine, seeing Ace in this state at 3:42 in the morning caught me by surprise. And the feeling in my gut told me that something was very wrong.

I approached him carefully, because I don't even know what he's capable of when he's sober. He was staring straight forward, a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. The expression on his face was unreadable.

I sat down beside him, swallowing hard. He didn't acknowledge me at all. He just brought the bottle up to his mouth and took another swig.

"You're gonna feel like hell tomorrow, you know that, right?" I asked softly.

"Sort of what I'm going for," he answered curtly.

I cleared my throat gruffly and then hesitated. "Ace, what's goin' on?" I asked finally.

Ace reached forward and grabbed a piece of paper sitting on top of the crate he used as a coffee table. He thrust it into my hands and took another gulp of beer.

"What's this?" I looked down at what appeared to be hospital charges for a Ms. Florence Merrill. That was Ace's grandmother, the woman who'd raised him. Based on all the tests and treatments she'd undergone, she wasn't doing very well. "Ace…" I wasn't sure what to say. Ace's grandmother was about the only person he gave a shit about.

He snatched the paper back from me, and sunk lower into the couch, reading it over.

I ran my hands through my hair. "This is why you're dealing again?"

He nodded and drunkenly reached for another beer. But I grabbed it before he could.

"You've had enough, man," I told him. For some reason I was feeling especially brave this morning.

Ace let out an emotionless laugh as if to say _are you serious?_ "Give that to me," he said firmly. "I'll fucking kill you, Chambers. You're already on my shit list for bailing on me tonight."

I sighed, and reluctantly handed the bottle over. "You really shouldn't…"

Ace just glared at me. He continued to glare as he popped the bottle cap off and slowly brought the bottle to his mouth. But once he reached his mouth, he paused, and then out of nowhere, he chucked the bottle at the front door and it shattered into dozens of pieces, and beer exploded everywhere.

I practically jumped out of skin. "For cryin' out loud, Ace!" I exclaimed.

"There. I didn't drink it," Ace said, his voice jaded. "Will you leave me the hell alone now?"

I swallowed hard and stood up. "Yeah, sure, you fuckin' psycho," I mumbled under my breath. I returned to the spare room, but not before I'd gotten what I'd come out for in the first place.

Before closing the door, I took one last look at Ace sitting on the couch. His elbows were on his knees and his head was in his hands. I wasn't used to seeing Ace Merrill like that, and I didn't like it. It was scary.

I finished my glass of water and got back into bed. But as much as I tried, I wasn't able to fall back asleep. Instead, I just stared at the ceiling and waited for morning.


	4. Chapter 4

I met Ace Merrill during the middle of my 5th grade year. He was the new kid in town after having moved here from Chicago to live with his grandmother. He was a real quiet kid, with an intimidating look about him, and most of the kids were scared of him. Besides, there were all sorts of nasty rumors about his family and why he'd come here, but nobody knew what was true and what wasn't.

 _"His parents died in a car crash because his dad was driving drunk." "His mom went to jail for prostitution and his dad's in the nuthouse." "His dad's a fraud and his mom's a whore."_ Those were just some of the rumors that were floating around. I think the town pitied him, but they still treated him like he was some sort of vermin.

Ace and I sort of became friends by default. I didn't have many friends of my own, considering I was pretty scrawny and my lazy eye was still the object of ridicule among my peers. The only friend I had was Jack Mudgett, the kid with the overbite. Ace didn't have any friends either, and he sort of started following us around. He talked weird, being from Chicago and all, but he was cool enough. He was the only kid I knew who smoked at age 11 after all. And he could cuss real good too.

I didn't find out the truth about Ace's parents until almost a year later, and I'm pretty sure I'm one of the few people in Castle Rock who know the truth to this day.

* * *

**October 19** **th** **, 1951**

It was a Friday. School had just let out and Ace and I were on our way home. He had been pretty quiet that day, but I didn't think much of it.

Up ahead in the distance, I could see a group of five or six kids in the grade above us hanging out in front of Quidaciolo's. I recognized one of the boys as Carl Merker, the mayor's son. I hated that guy. He was nothing but a high and mighty snob who got his jollies from making snide comments. There was no way we were getting by him and his friends without getting badgered.

"Oh look, it's Chambers and the orphan boy," Carl announced to his friends as we approached them.

I was planning on just ignoring them as we walked by, but Ace had other ideas. He stopped in his tracks and squared his shoulders to face Merker. I always knew the word "orphan" irked him.

"You _are_ an orphan, aren't you?" Carl sneered. "Or did your parents just not want you anymore?"

"Hey, Ace, just ignore 'em," I said, trying to push him along. But he didn't budge. There was fire in his eyes. He looked hurt, but above that, he looked daunting. It was the first time I realized that Ace was dangerous.

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings?" Carl asked in a mocking tone. The snickers of his friends were egging him on. "Too bad you can't run home and tell Mommy and Daddy about it."

And that did it. Ace went berserk. He grabbed Merker by the collar of his shirt and threw him to the ground. I could tell he was seeing red because he absolutely pounded the guy. He threw punch after punch without the slightest hint of stopping.

"Ace, stop!" I yelled, trying to pull him off of Merker. "He's had enough." Beating up the mayor's son wasn't the smartest of all ideas. The girls of Merker's group were shrieking as Carl's face became more and more bloodied. It wasn't until the rest of the guys from Merker's group helped me pull Ace up that we got him to stop.

I held him back while Carl's friends dropped down beside him. "What the hell's the matter with you?" one of them hissed at Ace.

I let go of Ace, still in shock of what I'd witnessed. He was breathing heavily and tears were streaming down his face. I'd never seen him cry before. He looked down at his busted knuckles and then back at Carl, who lay moaning on the sidewalk. Then he shot a glance at me and before I knew it, he was sprinting down the street.

I remained frozen for a moment before taking off after him.

But it was perfectly clear that Ace had no intention of letting me catch up to him. I kept shouting his name, but he didn't slow. I never knew he could run so fast.

Luckily for me, I had more stamina than he did. I hadn't gotten into smoking just yet, and Ace already had a good two years on him. So when he started to get overly winded, I took it as my opportunity to catch up to him.

I grabbed him by the arm and we came to a sudden halt by the library.

"Get the fuck off of me, Eyeball," Ace growled. It was Ace himself who'd come up with my nickname. He tried to pull his arm out of my grasp, but I had a firm hold. His face was flushed red, his eyes puffy from crying.

"No way, man. Not until you tell me what was with you back there. It was like you snapped or something."

"Yeah so maybe I did," Ace said angrily, wiping the tears from his cheeks with his free arm. "It felt good, too."

I let go of Ace's arm, trusting that he wouldn't take off running again. "I don't get it, man. You always just ignore kids when they start in on your parents. But not today."

"Yeah, well today ain't any old day." He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked away from me. His breathing was coming in short, hiccupping gasps.

It suddenly dawned on me what Ace was talking about. Today was the anniversary of whatever happened in the Merrill household that caused him to move to this lackluster town. I bit down on my lip. Ace had never breathed a word about his parents, and I had never asked him. But that didn't mean I wasn't curious. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked him softly.

More tears spilled out of Ace's eyes and he shook his head adamantly. "I don't even want to _think_ about it," he said through gritted teeth. He swiped the tears away quickly. "Look, I need to get home."

"Ace—"

"I'll see you later."

He continued his walk home and I let him go, mainly because I didn't know what else to say.

That was the last time anyone messed with Ace Merrill, though.

* * *

 **October 22** **nd** **, 1951**  
  
That following Monday, Ace was waiting for me outside of the school. I hadn't seen or heard from him all weekend. I figured he just needed some space.

"Hey man," I greeted him as I started to head inside. But Ace grabbed my arm.

"We're not goin' to school today," he said.

"We're ditching?" I was always up for skipping out on school. He and I did it on the regular.

Ace nodded. I was trying to read the expression on his face, but it's always hard with him. It's like his features are made out of stone. He started walking in the opposite direction, and I followed.

We went to the park and sat down under a tree. Neither one of us spoke for a good chunk of time. I noticed vaguely that the leaves had changed color. "What's goin' on, Ace?" I asked finally.

Ace reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a folded newspaper clipping and dropped it in my lap. Ace tends to do that: he makes me read what's going on in his life instead of just telling me. It's easier than talking, I guess.

I read the title of the article: AFFAIR BRINGS BLOODBATH TO LOCAL HOME

"What is this?" I asked.

"Just read it," Ace mumbled, lighting up a cigarette.

I licked my lips nervously and continued to read.

**AFFAIR BRINGS BLOODBATH TO LOCAL HOME  
Oct. 21** **st** **, 1950 – Chicago, IL**

**Blood was shed in Grundy County Saturday morning. Raymond and Nancy Merrill were found dead in their home on East Washington Street. City officials say it was marital dispute that went awry.**

**Nancy Merrill shot and killed her husband when she found him in bed with another woman upon returning from a night out of town. She then killed herself. The weapon used was a 7.62mm shotgun.**

**Raymond's mistress has been identified as Jean Wooden. She fled the scene after shots were fired, but has since come forward to testify.**

**The Merrill's son, an eleven-year-old boy, was out of the house when the shots rang out. It was he who found the bodies and alerted the police. Future custody of the boy is unknown.**

There was more to the article, but that was as much as I could stand to read. I swallowed hard and set the clipping down. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. "Jesus Christ, Ace," I whispered, because my voice was ostensibly broken. "I'm so sorry…"

Ace put his cigarette out against the tree and chucked the butt as far as he could into the distance. "It's fucked up, right?" he said, his voice teetering on the edge of breaking.

All I could do was nod. I put my hand on his shoulder as an attempt to comfort him, a sensation very foreign to both of us.

"I just thought you deserved to know," Ace said hoarsely.

Tears started rolling down his cheeks. Without a second thought, I slid my arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to me.

I remember Ace wiping away his tears and then pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He took another one for himself and then, with a shaky hand, he offered one to me. It was the first time I accepted.

We sat there, side by side, watching the leaves fall and puffing on our cigarettes. We didn't speak. We were both consumed in our own thoughts.

How could I have gone an entire year without knowing this awful truth about my friend? How had Ace held it together, while being haunted by the image of his deceased parents? How did he stand the ridicule of this godforsaken town? I couldn't begin to imagine.

I knew right then and there that Ace Merrill was the toughest person I'd ever met. And he is still the toughest person I know to this day.

We haven't spoken of his parents since.


	5. Chapter 5

I must've ended up falling asleep because I slept right through the alarm on Tuesday morning. I woke up at a little after noon. It didn't bother me that I was super late for school. I'd sort of already decided not to go. I didn't have one of my tutor sessions, so I honestly didn't feel the need to show up. And considering I still felt like shit, I didn't want to suffer miserably through school like I had the day before.

My head felt like it weighed a thousand tons as I stood up and made my way to the door. Ace was no longer on the couch, but the mess remained, when I emerged from the spare room. Beer bottles were still strewn everywhere and the busted glass from the one he'd thrown still littered the floor.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly, praying that Ace hadn't gone into work drunk off his ass. I peered into his bedroom, relieved to find him sound asleep in bed. I sat down on the couch and took a closer look at the hospital bill that was still sitting on the milk-crate-coffee-table.

From what I could tell, Ace's grandmother had spent a good amount of time in intensive care. For what, it didn't say. But it sure jacked up the bill total. There was no way Ace would be able to pay for it on his salary. He worked on a tobacco farm, hanging the leaves and doing the manual work. The pay was actually decent, but he had to cover rent for his place _and_ for his grandmother's nursing home. I knew he was barely scraping by, and this hospital bill would just be adding insult to injury.

I let out a deep breath and dropped my head into my hands. No wonder Ace decided to start dealing again. He needed the money.

I had only been sitting on the couch for a couple of minutes when Norman 'Fuzzy' Brackowicz, another one of our gang, walked in the door with a gal on his arm. It was the same tramp he'd been going with for months, Trish Dordy. They were laughing about something, but stopped instantly once they saw I was there. "Chambers, what the fuck are you doing here?" Fuzzy asked, hiding Trish behind his back. He was clearly planning on having Ace's place to himself. He looked around at the mess of bottles surrounding the couch. "You plastered or somethin'?"

"Those ain't mine," I told him, pinching the bridge of my nose. "They're Ace's. He's passed out in the bedroom. So if you're lookin' to screw, I suggest you beat it out of here."

Fuzzy raised his eyebrows. "You're serious?"

"Yeah."

Brackowicz was dumber than a sack of rocks, but even he had enough sense to leave while he had the chance. "Shit," he breathed. "Trish, we gotta get outta here." He practically pushed her out the door. "I ain't itchin' to see what a hung over Ace is like. Good riddance, Chambers." And they were gone as quickly as they came.

Once they were gone, I headed for Ace's bathroom to take a shower. I felt disgusting, and frankly, I just wanted to be clean. I turned on the shower and stripped down while I waited for the water to get hot.

The shower felt really good, with the hot water rushing against my aching body. I don't know how long I stood there, but it was long enough to get over-heated. Black dots started flashing in front of my eyes and I knew it was time to get out.

I shut off the water and grabbed for my towel. My hands had gotten all wrinkly from being in the shower too long. I took it slow as I dried myself off because I was still dizzy from the heat. Not having eaten for the past 40 hours probably wasn't helping either.

I headed back to the spare room and got changed. I always have an extra set of clothes at Ace's in case I stay the night at his place. Once dressed, I headed out to the kitchen to see if Ace had anything to eat. The shower really had made me feel better, and I was willing to give eating a try.

He didn't have squat. I had to make-do with a single can of tomato soup in his cupboard. _It's a wonder that Ace is still alive_ , I thought to myself. I swear the guy lived solely on cigarettes most days.

I quickly washed up a pot and used it to heat up the soup on the stove. I had just finished eating said soup, when Ace started hollering in his sleep. It wasn't nonsensical hollering either. I could understand him clearly, and it made my heart sink. He was yelling for his mum and dad.

I bolted into his room. He was all twisted up in his sheets and blankets. His shouts had dissolved into whimpers, with him repeating the word "no" over and over.

I knelt down beside him and shook his shoulder lightly. "Ace," I said softly. "Wake up, man."

His eyes flew open, and they looked panicked and scared. "What?" he breathed. He sat up slowly, clearly disoriented.

"You were dreamin'," I told him. "You alright?"

Ace brought a hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. His entire frame was shaking. "Yeah," he answered through gritted teeth. "What time is it?"

"A little after 1:30."

Ace cursed under his breath and tried to get out of bed, but I kept a firm grip on his shoulder that held him down. "Ace, just take it easy for a second."

But he shook his head adamantly and pushed my arm away before standing up. "I gotta go see my gran," he said hoarsely. I watched as he pulled on his jeans and grabbed a button-up shirt from his closet. But his hands were shaking so much that he couldn't even button up the shirt.

"Ace…"

"Can it, Chambers," he growled, giving up on his shirt. He went to his bureau and grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the top of it. He tried to pull one out, but ending up dropping the pack instead. All of his cigarettes spilled onto the floor.

"Goddammit," he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. He didn't pick up the cigarettes. Instead, he turned around and leaned against the bureau so he was facing away from me. I could tell he was doing everything in his power just to hold it together.

I bent down to pick up the dropped cigarettes and set them back on the bureau. "Ace, turn around, man."

He did, reluctantly, with his eyes closed. "Why are you even here, Eyeball?" he asked as I buttoned up his shirt for him.

"Wasn't feeling school today," I answered. I handed him a cigarette so he could light up and calm his nerves. "C'mon. Where are your keys?" I asked. "I'll drive you to the hospital."

* * *

By the time we got to the hospital, Ace had relaxed a bit. My plan was to go into his grandmother's room with him and make sure he kept his composure. But the doc wouldn't let me. Family only.

So Ace was on his own and I was stuck lingering in the boring-ass waiting room. To be honest, I was amazed that Ace was even functioning, albeit just barely, after all the alcohol he'd consumed the night before. If he hadn't been so shaken up, you better believe I would've given him hell for it. He was never very merciful when one of the gang was hung over.

When I got bored looking at the pathetic hospital paintings on wall, I picked up an old Life magazine and started reading. I wasn't much of a magazine reader, but this one was interesting enough to keep me entertained for a good thirty minutes. I especially enjoyed reading the jokes.

"Rich?"

Hearing my name startled me. I lifted my head up from the magazine to find none other than fucking Dennis Lachance standing over me. I groaned inwardly. "What are you doing here?"

"I volunteer here every Tuesday," Denny said simply as he plopped down into the seat beside me.

_Of course you do_ , I thought scathingly. I looked back down at my magazine, trying to give Lachance the hint that I didn't want to make conversation with him. I wasn't particularly thrilled that we were sitting side-by-side on a day that I wasn't being forced to interact with him.

But he chose not to take the hint. "So why are _you_ here?" he asked.

"Came with a friend. He's visiting his grandmother," I answered shortly, not looking up.

"I take it you weren't allowed in her room?"

I shook my head. "Family only."

"Must be pretty serious then, huh?"

I shrugged. I knew it was, but Ace would kill me if he knew I was spilling his family business to Lachance. He couldn't stand the guy either.

"It's probably best you don't go near the patients, anyway, with how sick you were yesterday," Denny said wisely. I could feel his eyes on me, looking me over. "You feelin' better today?"

"Yeah." I could feel my cheeks turning red. I was still pretty embarrassed that Lachance had seen me so ill.

"That's good to hear," he said, a wide grin on his face. He opened his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I was being rude, but I didn't care. Denny was like an overexcited puppy that seemed set on us being friends. I could only tolerate so much.

Denny sighed and stood up. "Yeah, I was heading down to pediatrics when I saw you. Just thought I'd say hey."

"Hey," I said dryly.

Denny chuckled. "I can feel the love," he said sarcastically. He glanced at his watch. "You know, this time tomorrow, we'll be learning about surface area. I bet you can't wait."

I flipped him the bird as a response.

That just made him laugh again. "I'll see ya, Rich," he said. "Give your friend my best." Then he turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

"Eyeball."

I snapped my head up to find Ace standing over me. I must've dozed off. The Life magazine I'd been reading had slid off my lap and onto the floor. "Hey," I said drowsily, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "How'd it go?"

Ace shook his head dismissively. "You can take off," he said hoarsely. "Take my car."

I frowned. "What are you gonna do?"

Ace collapsed into the chair next to me. "I'm stayin' here tonight," he answered, rubbing his temples. He was no-doubt feeling the morning-after effects of all the alcohol he'd consumed. I heard him curse under his breath. "She's not doin' so good."

I swallowed hard. I had about a thousand questions, but it's near impossible to get answers out of Ace. Hell, based on the hospital bill I could tell his grandmother had been in the hospital about a week, but yesterday was the first I'd heard of it. "What's goin' on with her, anyway?"

Ace hesitated and I about blew a gasket.

"For fuck's sake, Ace, could you just give me a straight answer for once?"

Ace glared at me, but it worked. He answered my question. "Started out as a bad case of pneumonia," he said stiffly. "But her blood counts keep droppin' and she's gettin' weaker. She can't even sit up on her own. And she's confused as hell. She didn't even recognize me." Ace bit down on his lip and gazed down the hallway toward his grandmother's room. "The fuckers got me payin' an arm and a leg and they can't even tell me what's wrong with her."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "But they're runnin' tests, right?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Ace growled. "That's why I'm stayin'. I want some damn answers."

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. "Ace—"

"I'm fine, Eyeball," Ace said forcedly, standing up. "You ain't gotta hang around."

I could tell he wanted me to leave, so I stood up and reached into my jeans pocket. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes. "Here," I said, handing him the pack. "You need these more than I do."

And then I left.

* * *

"Richie." Chris kicked me under the table and I looked up from my plate at him. "Pop's talking to you," he whispered.

I let out a deep breath and met my father's gaze. "Eat your dinner," he said.

"I ain't hungry," I said. And I wasn't. I was feeling kind of sick again. I'd spent the last hour curled up in the bathroom, praying that the tomato soup I'd eaten earlier wouldn't make a reappearance. Fortunately, it hadn't. But I wasn't about to push it any more at dinner.

Pop pounded his fist on the table and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Your mother prepared this nice meal for us and you're gonna eat it, goddamnit!" he shouted. Like I said, Pop picks the most arbitrary shit to go off on us for.

And I couldn't handle this shit right now. I knew it was a mistake to come home. But I had just wanted a bed. _My_ bed. "Fuck you," I said under my breath, but apparently not quietly enough.

Pop heard me and stood up. "What did you say to me, boy?"

He started undoing his belt, which prompted my mother to squeak, "Frank… don't." That's the most she does to try to stop it. And he always ignores her.

I stood up, bracing myself behind my chair, ready to throw it in my path if he came after me. Chris and my mother were watching with scared eyes.

Pop was glaring at me with so much loathing and I was glaring right back. I hated him. I hated his guts.

"C'mere," Pop growled.

"No fucking way," I said, sounding braver than I felt.

That did it. Pop started after me and I bolted down the hallway to the room I share with Christopher. Most people in this situation would take off out the door, but I was too stubborn for that. I'd already committed to staying the night at home. In _my_ bed.

I tried to close the door to my room and lock it, but Pop was too close. He straight-armed the door as I tried to slam it shut. I was really in for it now.

He started with the belt. Giving me lash after lash as I curled into myself on the cold floor. It hurt. Like hell. But I always try my hardest not to shout out or cry. I don't want him to know how much he hurts me. I don't want him to have the satisfaction.

The whole time, Pop went on his usual rant. How I'm ungrateful, pathetic, a nobody. And when he was finished, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I was left lying on the floor, my entire body throbbing with pain, too exhausted to move.

The door creaked open moments later and Chris stepped into the room. "Jesus Christ," he breathed when he saw the state I was in.

Tears had started to roll down my cheeks and onto the floor. My fresh welts stung under the weight of my T-shirt. I was grateful when Chris squatted down in front of me and pulled the shirt off for me. He'd been there plenty of times himself. "You okay?" he asked.

I grunted and managed a nod. "Same old, same old," I mumbled. I pushed him away from me and struggled to stand up.

Chris took a seat on his bed, watching me. "He's been on a real mean streak lately," he said. "'Course you wouldn't know that," he added bitterly, folding his arms across his chest. "You're never around."

I leaned heavily against the dresser, rummaging around the top drawer for some Advil. "Can you blame me?" I asked through gritted teeth. It wasn't my fault that the kid wasn't smart enough to crash somewhere else. I tossed my head back and swallowed down a few pills.

"I don't get why you don't fight back," Chris said quietly.

That made me freeze up a bit because the truth was, I didn't know either. I was almost twenty years old and I'd been dealing with this same shit for as long as I could remember. It had only intensified over the years.

Maybe it was habit. I was used to running, used to getting beaten down. Too afraid to fight back.

Having no answer for Chris, I just mumbled, "Look who's talkin'."

Chris tilted his head at me, almost like he was sizing me up. "You know what I think?" he asked, as I got under the covers of my bed.

Knowing he'd tell me anyway, I kept my trap shut.

"I think you're nothin' but a coward."

Normally I just ignore Chris, but those words really got to me. "Yeah, well, fuck you," I muttered before pulling the covers over my head and turning on my side away from him. My stomach felt uneasy and it wasn't from being sick. What Chris said hurt a thousand times worse than what Pop had done to me, and I knew why.

It was the truth.


	7. Chapter 7

When my alarm clock rang the following morning, I opened my eyes to discover that every fiber of my body ached. I stared up at the ceiling, realizing I felt completely overwhelmed. I was upset about my father, worried about Ace, livid that I couldn't ditch school because of that damn tutor session. I felt my cheeks get hot with tears and I was disgusted with myself for being such a pussy. I just didn't want to face the day.

My stomach lurched and I grabbed for the wastebasket beside my bed. I was promptly ill, sputtering painful bile into the bin before me. "Goddammit," I breathed, pushing the bin away from me when I'd finished. I just couldn't catch a break.

I sat up slowly, trying to focus my eyes. Chris was sitting up in his bed too, watching me. "You okay?" he asked hoarsely from across the room.

I didn't answer him. But what he'd said to me the night before came washing back over me like a wave. I stood up determinedly and started getting dressed. I wasn't looking forward to putting a shirt back on over my exposed flesh. I searched for the lightest-weight shirt I could find.

"Richie, what are you doing?"

"I'm goin' to school," I answered through gritted teeth as I slipped the shirt on over my head. Every movement I made hurt.

"Are you fucking _insane_?" Chris asked, his eyes wide.

"No, I'm a fucking _coward_ , remember?" I shot back, wincing as I reached down to put on my shoes. Tears continued to leak from my eyes.

That shut Chris up real good, but he kept watching me. I finished tying my shoes and then slowly made my way to the bathroom. I closed the door behind me and locked it. After taking a piss and washing my face, I forced myself to take a look in the mirror.

I barely recognized the person staring back at me. My face was paler than the moon and my lips were stark white. My eyes were red and puffy. Frankly, I looked hideous.

I heaved a sigh. With how slowly I was moving this morning, I figured I needed to start my walk to school now. I emerged from the bathroom reluctantly to find Christopher standing in the hallway outside of the door.

"Richie, don't go," he said, and I was surprised to hear that his voice was wobbly and uneven. "You're too bent out of shape, man."

"I have to go," I said, pushing past him to grab my backpack from our room.

"Why?" he demanded, following me.

"For Christ's sake, Christopher, mind your own goddamn business," I growled as I slung the bag over my shoulder.

Chris put his hands up in defeat. "Fine, Rich. Do whatever the hell you want. See what I care." He slammed the door shut after me as I exited the room.

Well this day was off to a fucking swell start.

* * *

"Mr. Chambers." Bates was standing over my desk, his arms folded.

_God, no_. I thought to myself. I hadn't been paying attention at all in class today. I could barely keep my head up and my side was still throbbing in pain from the belting I'd endured the night before. The whole day I'd been close to dissolving into tears, and if Mr. Bates gave me any trouble, I might do just that.

"Why aren't you doing your work?" he asked, his voice firm.

I nervously looked around the room. The rest of the class was working on practice problems that Bates had put up on the board. I hadn't even realized. I swallowed hard. "I-I…" But I couldn't put together a complete sentence, and even if I could, I had no idea what I would say.

Bates squatted down in front of me. "I want you to do go have a seat outside in the hall for the remainder of class," he said sternly. "Take your things."

I groaned inwardly as I glanced up at the clock. There were only five more minutes left of class. I had made it through all of my other classes. Why couldn't he have just left me alone for five more minutes? I reluctantly picked up my book bag and walked across the room and out to the hall, well aware that the entire class's eyes were on me. I closed the door behind me and practically collapsed onto the bench outside of the classroom.

I wrapped my arm around my middle in an attempt to get my side to stop aching. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.

The bell rang and the students emptied out of the classroom, and after a while, the halls. I remained on the bench, anticipating the wrath of Mr. Bates.

"Rich?" I opened my eyes several moments later to find Lachance standing at the doorway, his head tilted in my direction. "Are you okay? What are you doing out here?"

"Bates told me to wait out here," I answered hoarsely.

Denny started to say something else, but he was interrupted by Bates calling him into the classroom. "I'll be right back," he told me.

_Take your time_ , I thought.

When Denny returned I thought he'd be accompanied by Mr. Bates, but he wasn't. He took a seat next to me. "Hey, man," he said, his voice careful. "Bates asked me to drive you home. He said you ain't well, so he's giving you a pass on tutoring today."

I met his eyes, awestruck. "Really?" I asked. And to think I thought he was going to explode on me…

Denny nodded. "Turns out he _does_ have a soul," he said shrugging. "Who knew?"

"Not me," I mumbled.

Denny was looking me over carefully when his gaze fell on my hand that was clutching my side. "What happened there?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"You're bleedin'." Denny pointed at my abdomen. I looked down, and sure enough, blood had started to seep through the side of my T-shirt. Before I could stop him, Denny had pushed my arm aside and he lifted up shirt.

"Don't do that," I snapped, trying to pull it back down, but it was too late. He had seen.

Denny let the shirt fall and his hand flew up to cover his mouth. "Jesus Christ, Chambers!" he exclaimed and I told him to shut the fuck up. He lowered his voice. "Did your old man do that to you?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It ain't a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Denny hissed. "Rich, just look at yourself."

I bit down on my lip and much to my dismay, tears started dripping down my face. "Shit," I breathed, wiping them away with the back of my hand.

I felt Denny put his hand on my shoulder. "C'mon," he said, his voice gentler now. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Denny knew better than to take me home. As far as I was concerned, I was never going back there again. Or at least, that's what I always tell myself after Pop goes wild like that. But the truth of the matter is, I always end up going back to make sure Ma and, especially, Chris are okay. He's my brother and I care about him, even if I don't ever bother to show it.

Anyway, in the car, Denny asked if he should take me to Ace's, but I told him no. I couldn't face Ace right now. I didn't even know if he would be home, but I wasn't taking any chances. I really was a coward.

"Then where should I take you?" Denny asked.

"Far away from here," I deadpanned. I was being sarcastic, but he seemed to take it to heart.

I'm not really sure where Denny ended up taking me because I fell asleep, but I know it was out of city limits. We ended up on this winding dirt road surrounded by trees that led up a steep hill. "Where the fuck are we going?" I mumbled, keeping my eyes closed so I wouldn't hurl.

"You'll see," Denny said simply.

I felt like we drove for ages, but finally we came to a halt. Denny cut the engine and shook my shoulder. "Take a look," he said.

I opened my eyes to find us on top of the hill staring out into the valley below through a clearing in the trees. It was a gorgeous sight to take in all at once. Everything was starting to turn green, buds were starting to bloom, the sun was shining through the clouds. I could see tiny rooftops and streets far in the distance.

"Whoa," I breathed. "You can see the whole town from here."

"Pretty cool, right?" Denny asked, grinning at me.

"Yeah," I said shrugging. "But why are we here?"

Denny sighed. "I wanted to take you somewhere far enough away that you couldn't get back on your own."

I frowned at him. "Why?"

"So I can kill you and grind your bones for bread," he answered with a straight face.

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm only kidding," he said, chuckling softly to himself. "I just want you to talk to me. And considering I'm the only one who knows how to get back from here, and I'm not leaving until you talk… you sort of don't have a choice."

I just gaped at him. That sly, sly bastard.


	8. Chapter 8

"So you kidnapped me." I was glaring out the window, my arms folded across my chest.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"What if I don't feel like talkin'?" I asked stubbornly. What the hell was I supposed to talk about anyway?

Denny sighed. "C'mon, Rich, I'm not asking for much here," he said. "We're going to spend a lot of time together these next couple of weeks. Might do us some good to get to know each other."

I could feel a lump forming in my throat as I continued to stare out the window. "Trust me, Lachance, you don't want to know me. I ain't worth knowin'."

"How about you leave that up to me to decide?" Denny said softly, without missing a beat. "What do you say?"

I turned my head to face him, studying his face carefully. I was trying to figure out any ulterior motives he might have. Why the hell would someone like him want to try and get to know someone like me?

Fine," I gave in grudgingly. Might as well get this over with. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know, man. Start with basics. What do you like to do?"

I hesitated. "I like to fish, I guess," I answered. "And I play pool a lot." This was so stupid.

"You any good?" Denny asked.

I shrugged. "I don't lose much."

"We should play sometime," Denny said, and I immediately thought:  _Not a chance_. "You'd probably skunk me though," he went on. "I barely know how to play. But I hear billiards is a big thing in college, so maybe I ought to learn. You ever play poker? I hear that's big too."

I nodded. "Yeah. Me an' the guys play poker every weekend, just about."

"For money?"

"Nah. Usually just for cigarettes."

"You hang around with Ace Merrill, don't you?" Denny asked. "And Billy Tessio and Charlie Hogan?"

"Yeah, and a couple other guys."

"What's Merrill like?" Denny asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Is he nice? A good guy?"

"Far from it," I answered. "But he's my best friend." My best friend that I was currently bailing on to talk to fucking Denny Lachance.

Denny was quiet for a moment, and I was grateful. I didn't like talking about myself. There wasn't much to say.

"What are you going to do after you graduate?" Denny asked after a while.

My stomach dropped and I curled my arms around my middle. " _If_ I graduate," I corrected him flatly. I didn't like to think about that. Pop would kill me for sure if I didn't graduate. My side started aching again at just the thought.

"You'll graduate," Denny said confidently.

"Yeah, sure, third time's the charm," I said sarcastically, my voice breaking.

Denny was watching me carefully. "Is it important to you?" he asked. "Graduating?"

"My pop'll kill me if I don't," I answered, much more gruffly this time.

"That wasn't my question," he pointed out. "I asked if it was important to  _you_."

I just shrugged. I hadn't really given it much thought. I never really enjoyed school all that much and probably would've dropped out if I wasn't so afraid of my father. I'd also stuck with it because of Ace. When he dropped out, I was set to drop out too. But he wouldn't have it. Said I'd be making a big mistake. And I listened to him.

I guess graduating  _was_ important to me. It'd be nice to finish something for a change. Prove to everybody that I could do it...

Denny cleared his throat. "You're your own person, Rich. You should do things for yourself," he told me wisely. "Not for your deadbeat father."

I gaped at him. That last comment was way out of line. It's sort of an unwritten rule that you don't dig on another guy's dad. Especially if you barely know the guy. But I didn't mind too much – I was focusing on the first thing he said.

Denny sighed. "Look, I shouldn't have said that," he said softly, realizing he might've gone too far with the "deadbeat" thing. "It's just… I know you're havin' a hard time. A blind person could see that. And your dad's not helping." He let out a deep breath. "I just think you're too overwhelmed, Rich. You're making yourself sick."

I turned my head away from him so I was looking out the window. Didn't he get that it wasn't that easy? I couldn't just  _stop_  being overwhelmed. Tears started to roll down my face again. I swear I'd cried more today than I had in the past five years combined.  _What the hell is wrong with me?_

"Will you take me back into town now?" I croaked, not even bothering to wipe away my tears. That was enough "talking" for one day. Besides, I figured nothing could be harder than getting through the humiliation I was experiencing right now. Not even facing Ace.

Denny sighed and put his keys back into the ignition. "Sure," he said softly. He swallowed hard and turned the car around. Then we headed back down the hill. In complete silence.

I think Denny thought I was mad at him. But the truth was, I wasn't. He was the first person to ever separate me from my father. I'd spent my entire life thinking I was going to end up like him: a washed out drunk with a family who hates me. I always just  _assumed_  I was going nowhere. After all, my older brother Dave certainly hadn't broken the curse. He ran away when he was seventeen and last I heard he was serving time in jail for sexual assault charges. Just carrying on the fucking proud family name…

Seriously, though, that's how I thought of myself: I was a Chambers kid, so I was worth shit. And I was convinced that every other person in town believed that too. Denny had just proven otherwise, and that gave me a shred of hope.  _You're your own person_. His words echoed in my head the entire way back.

When we got back to town, Denny dared to speak, just to ask me where to drop me off. I told him to go to Ace's.

He pulled up to Ace's place and I got out of the car slowly, still achy from being belted and ill. I closed the door after me and started to head up to the porch, when I decided to turn back.

I tapped on the window of the car door. "Hey, Lachance," I said.

Denny reached across the passenger seat to roll down the window.

I hesitated. "Thanks," I said finally, meeting his eyes nervously. Words of gratitude were ones I wasn't used to saying. I rarely ever had a reason to utter them.

I saw a wave of relief wash over Denny's face. "Don't mention it man," he said, giving me a nervous smile. "Take it easy, alright? I'll see you Friday."

"Friday," I confirmed. Then I turned back to face Ace's house and Denny drove away.

Before I turned the knob to the front door, I let out a deep breath, praying, for both Ace's sake and mine, that he was there and had some good news about his grandmother. But there was a sinking feeling in my gut that told me something was wrong. And most of the time, my gut was right.


	9. Chapter 9

I was surprised when I stepped into Ace's house to find that all the beer bottles had been cleaned up and his place actually smelled clean for a change. There were grocery bags sitting on top of the wobbly kitchen table. The back door to the kitchen was wide open.

"Ace, you here?" I called out, taking a peek in the bags as I approached the back door. There was nothing but fresh vegetables and fruit and pasta and other healthy foods. There was no way that it was Ace who went shopping.

Peering out the door, I saw that a station wagon was parked in front of Ace's shed. A woman, with beautiful, dark brown hair in a bouffant style, was unloading some more grocery bags from the trunk. She was wearing a light yellow dress that accentuated her body in a modest way.

"Who are you?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest while leaning in the doorway.

The woman turned around and I decided she must be in her late thirties or early forties. I think I must have startled her, because she almost dropped the bags she was holding. "I'm Dottie Brower," she said, a big grin on her face. She closed the trunk of her station wagon with her foot and bustled back up to the house. "You must be one of Ace's friends."

She slid past me and put the grocery bags on the table with the others.

"Yeah. So uh… what are you doing?" I asked her as she started unloading the bags.

"Well, I went down to the hospital this morning to visit Florence, Ace's grandmother. You see, I'm the chef at her nursing home and I've become quite fond of that little lady. But she's not doing too well and so I wasn't allowed to go in to see her."

I nodded. "Family only."

"Right. Anyway, my heart is broken for her grandson. He seems like such a sweet boy and Florence always talks about him with such admiration. He takes good care of her, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," I said, tilting my head at her. "Are you new in town?" She couldn't have lived here long if she believed Ace was a _sweet boy_.

"Fairly," she answered. "My husband's job was relocated about three months ago. So we and our son, Ray, packed up from Texas and made the trek up here." I could tell she had a southern drawl. "Nice little town. Not at all like what we were used to in Houston."

"Were you able to talk to Ace?" I asked her. "At the hospital?"

Dottie stopped putting groceries away and let out a big sigh. "Yes," she said sadly. "He's real upset about his gran and I just wanted to help him out. So I thought I'd come by and tidy his place up a bit. I've been here before to drop off some jam."

My eyes widened. "You're the jam lady?" Ace never had any food in his cupboards, but lately he was _always_ stocked up on blueberry jam. When we asked him about it he just told us he got it from "some broad that knew his grandmother."

Dottie laughed. "That's me." She glanced at her watch. "Listen hon, do you think you could finish putting these groceries away for me? I've gotta get back to work. Old folks eat early, you know."

"Uh yeah, sure," I said. I liked Dottie. She was a fireball of energy, that's for sure. "Uh… thanks," I added, as she grabbed her purse off of the couch.

"Don't you mention it," she said, about to take off the door when she paused. She was staring at my shirt where blood had seeped through and I heard her gasp. "Oh sweetie, what happened to you?"

I immediately felt my cheeks burn red from humiliation. "Nothing," I lied quickly. "I just got into a fight with a kid after school. No big deal."

Dottie sighed but seemed to buy my lie. "I've never understood why men like to fight so much," she said. "But I guess boys will be boys." She then went on to tell me to soak my shirt in cold water to get the stain out. In the five minutes I'd spent with her, she was already more of a mother to me than my mom ever was or will be.

Dottie left after that, asking me to please keep an eye on Ace.

I promised her I would.

* * *

Once the "jam lady" had gone, I finished putting the groceries away, and then I got myself cleaned up. I took another shower, but it didn't feel as good as last time. The streaming water hurt my tender flesh. I squatted down, wrapping my arms around my knees, letting the warm water bounce off of my back. I felt sick and tired and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed.

But I knew I had to go and see Ace. I had to make sure he was okay, even if I was far from being okay myself. I realized that Denny was right. I was too overwhelmed. Life was getting too real too fast.

I turned the shower off and got out, wrapping my towel around me tightly. I emerged from the bathroom to find Charlie Hogan and Billy Tessio sitting on the couch throwing back some beers.

"Hey Eyeball," Billy said, as I made my way to the spare room to change. "You know how this house got so clean? It's fuckin' weird."

"Yeah, it was that broad that brings Ace all that jam," I told him. "She's a babe."

Charlie laughed. "No kidding? Nice." He took a swig of his beer. "What's she doin' wastin' her time cleaning this shithole?"

I realized then that I was probably the only one in the gang that knew about Ace's gran, considering Ace is a goddamn closed book. "Ace's gran is in the hospital," I told them. "That jam lady knows her and she wanted to do somethin' nice for Ace I guess. She called him a 'sweet boy.'"

We all got a kick out of that, but Charlie and Billy's laughter stopped abruptly when they realized how serious this situation could become. "Shit, I knew somethin' was up with Ace when he asked me to go on that deal," Billy said. "How bad is she?"

My stomach shifted uncomfortably. "That's the thing. We don't know," I told him. "They can't figure out what's wrong with her. And she keeps gettin' worse."

"Fuck."

"Yeah," I agreed softly. We all knew that Ace would lose it if something happened to his grandmother. "I'm about to head down there now if you guys want to come."

Charlie and Billy glanced at each other. "Nah," they said, simultaneously.

I let out a huff of air and rolled my eyes. "Fuckin' pussies," I mumbled as I closed the door to the spare room behind me.

I got changed, grabbed Ace's keys, and left.

"Godspeed," Charlie called after me on my way out the door.

I flipped him and Billy the bird over my head and let the screen door slam behind me.

Now, I'm not what you would call a religious man, but the whole way to the hospital you better believe I was praying to every god and spirit out there. _Please let her be okay_ , I thought desperately. _Please._


	10. Chapter 10

Ace was stepping out of the elevator the second I walked into the lobby of the hospital. He had my pack of smokes in his hand, his eyes were staring down at his feet.

"Ace," I said, trying to get his attention.

He lifted his head and hurriedly shuffled over to me. "Eyeball, where've you been?"

"I got caught up at school." Of course that wasn't true, but I didn't have the energy to go into details. "How's it goin'? She doin' alright?"

"Yeah, she's doin' better today," Ace answered, his eyes darting around the lobby nervously. "Her fever's gone down some and she ate most of her lunch today. She's sleeping now."

I relaxed a little. Better was good. "Any more word on what's wrong with her?"

Ace sighed. "They say it's a just combination of things. Pneumonia, dehydration, early signs of dementia… Her doc thinks she'll pull through."

"Well, that's good news, right?" I asked, jamming my hands in my pockets and rocking back and forth on my feet.

He nodded. "Yeah," he said quickly. "Yeah, it is. I just wish she get better faster, you know?"

"Yeah man, I know," I told him. I let my arms swing down by my sides. "You stayin' here again tonight?"

Ace let out another sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I dunno, man. Hospitals give me the creeps." He pushed me back toward the door I'd just come in. "C'mon, I need a smoke."

We sat down on the bench outside the door and Ace immediately lit up. He offered me one and I took it. I lit up but I didn't take that many drags. Each time I did it made me feel sicker. Eventually I just gave up on it and stomped it out on the ground.

Instead, I looked Ace over. He looked as exhausted as I felt. Dark circles under his eyes, unshaven face, clothes that probably hadn't been properly washed in ages. I was worried about him. I really was.

I cleared my throat gruffly. "So the jam lady stopped by your place today," I told him.

"Oh yeah?"

I nodded. "You never told me how hot she was."

That got a smirk out of Ace. "You never asked." He took a long drag on his cigarette and let it out slowly.

"Well, she cleaned the whole place. Stocked your icebox too."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Ace said. "She's somethin'."

"Somethin'," I agreed.

We were quiet for a long while after that. Our relationship was kind of a strange one, mine and Ace's, because neither one of us talked very much. Not real talk anyway. Like I said, Ace is a closed book and I sure ain't any better. If we sense that the other is upset, we usually go out and blow off steam by egging cars or playing mailbox baseball. Today we were both on edge, but neither one of us had the energy to do any of that. So we talked.

"What'd you do to piss off your old man this time?" Ace asked finally, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

I gave him a confused look. I hadn't said a word about my old man.

"Don't look at me like that," he said tiredly. "I ain't blind. I saw how you could barely walk comin' out here. And you look like hell, too."

"I look like hell?" I asked. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"As a matter of fact I have," Ace said. He stroked his unshaven chin. "I think this scruff is working for me."

I chuckled lightly. "Right." I looked down at my hands. "And to answer your question, I didn't do a damn thing."

Ace stomped his cigarette out on the ground and forcefully pulled out another one from the pack. He shook his head as he lit up. "I don't get you, Chambers. You're stronger than him, aren't ya? Why don't you ever fight back? Give that bastard what he deserves."

He sounded so much like Christopher that I just stared at him. "Because I ain't like him," I answered finally.

"That ain't the point."

"That's _exactly_ the point," I maintained. "Drop it, okay?"

Ace squinted his eyes at me, sizing me up just like Chris had done the previous night. But unlike Christopher, he knew not to press any further. He blew out a big huff of smoke. "Me and my gran's nurse fooled around last night," he told me, as a way to change the subject.

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

He nodded. "In the storage closet." He said it with so much certainty that I had no choice but to believe him.

I rolled my eyes at him. "You're fuckin' unbelievable, man."

Ace smiled devilishly and took a long drag on his cigarette. Then he blew the smoke out in my face. "So listen, I think I'll come home tonight," he said. "I'm sick of this place. Besides, Gran's doin' better and there ain't much I can do here anyway."

"And your boss'll probably have you canned if you miss any more work," I joked, although I was also kind of serious. I knew Ace's job had been in threatened more than once.

"Nah, that sonuvabitch won't fire me," Ace said coolly. "He's all talk."

"Maybe so. But you need the money."

Ace let out a deep breath. "Man, you aint kidding," he said dully. He put his cigarette out and stood up. "Let's get out of here, huh?"

I tossed him his keys. "You drive," I told him. And we beat it out of there.

* * *

"Ten out of ten, Rich," Denny said as he finished checking my answers to some practice problems he'd given me. It was Friday and I was learning everything there is to know about area, surface area, and volume. "Call me crazy, but I'd be willing to say you're actually not half-bad at this geometry thing."

"You're crazy," I said simply. I motioned to the opened book on the table. "I only got these right because that formula sheet is right in front of me."

"Oh come on, you barely looked at it," Denny told me. He stood up and started cleaning up his books. I was confused. We still had 30 minutes of the session left. "But I have an idea to really put you to the test," he said. "Follow me."

I grabbed my stuff and followed him out to his car. "You realize I've ended up in your car every time you're supposed to teach me geometry?" I asked, on the way to wherever he was taking me.

"So far," Denny said, a smile creeping onto his lips.

He pulled into the parking lot of The Den, one of the local pubs in Castle Rock.  
"What the hell are we doing here?" I asked.

"I told you I wanted to shoot some pool with you," Denny answered as we stepped in the door. "C'mon."

Luckily, the pub was deserted. It was one of the shittier pubs in Castle Rock and not many people went there. I was grateful for that. I didn't want anyone to see me with Lachance. It'd be one hell of an image killer.

Denny went straight to a pool table and started pulling the balls out of the pockets. He rolled them over to me. "Rack 'em," he said.

"Nine-Ball or Eight-Ball?" I asked.

"Nine Ball," he answered. "I'll have a better shot at winning that way."

I grabbed the rhombus-shaped rack from the pegs on the wall and filled the balls in appropriately.

"While you're at it, tell me the area of that rhombus," Denny said. "Let's say one diagonal is 5 inches and the other is 8."

I froze. "Um…"

"You can do this, Rich," Denny said, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. "Think about that problem with the kite from earlier."

I thought a minute. "Is it 20?" I asked, hoping I was right about the formula and not making a complete ass out of myself.

"It is!" Denny said happily. "Tell me how you got there."

"Multiplied the two diagonals and divided by two?" I answered unconvincingly.

"That's exactly right," Denny said, clapping his hands together happily. "I knew you were getting the hang of this."

I thought it was pretty funny that he was so excited about me getting a simple problem correct. "Don't get too jazzed," I said, rolling my eyes. "That was pretty basic."

"Alright then, I'll give you something tougher," Denny said. He rolled the cue ball over to me. "Diameter is 6 centimeters. Tell me its surface area and volume. We can start playing while you work it out."

We went on like this throughout the three games that we played. Denny kept giving me problems and I worked them out while we played. By the time we'd finished, I'd figured out the surface area of the entire pool table, the volume of the pockets, and even the volume of the tiny chalk cube. I was able to get the correct answer for all the questions Denny fired at me, without any of his help.

As for the games, I came out victorious, but Denny really wasn't all that bad at pool. He even won the second game we played. At the end of the third game, he shook my hand and then looked down at his watch. "Oops," he said, grinning. "Kept you overtime."

"Only by like half an hour," I said, shrugging it off. I really didn't mind. I had fun, believe it or not. It was a way to end the shitty week I'd had on a high note. In fact, everything had seemed to come together. I was feeling better, and more importantly, so was Ace's grandmother. And now, I was actually starting to get the hang of geometry. I wasn't feeling as stressed, and let me tell you, that was a huge relief.

I eyed the bar, and the words that came out of my mouth next surprised me just as much as they surprised Lachance. "Want to grab a drink?" I asked him.

Denny raised his eyebrows. "You mean that?" he asked.

"Yeah, I mean it."

Denny laughed in spite of himself. "Well okay, sure, man."

I smiled at his confusion. "Trust me, I'm just as shocked as you are," I told him. I pushed him in the direction of the bar. "C'mon."

And you won't believe it when I tell you, but we stayed in that pub for three more hours, just shootin' the breeze.


	11. Chapter 11

Denny and I sat side by side at the bar. We didn't say much at first. Just drank our beer and spun our bottle caps around.

"So how's your girl?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.

Everyone in town knew that Denny was dating Jane Fletcher. They were the power couple. Jane was head cheerleader, a beautiful blonde girl with the prettiest smile I've ever seen. She had a good head on her shoulders too. Every guy in Castle Rock wanted to be with her, but obviously she was taken. Just another reason for me and the gang to resent him.

"We broke up," Denny said. "I've been riding solo for a little over two weeks now."

I raised my eyebrows. "No kiddin'?" It was strange I hadn't heard about it. News around this town travels fast. "Who broke up with who?"

Denny hesitated. "Well, it was sort of mutual," he said. "We both knew we had to end it because neither one of us wanted to do the long-distance thing in college." He let out a heavy sigh. "I wasn't going to break it off until I left. But Jane wanted to end it now and finish the summer off as 'just friends.'"

"Yeah, and how's that workin' out for you?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face. "Just friends" never worked.

Denny chuckled. "Haven't talked to her since."

"So she dumped you," I concluded.

Denny took a swig of his beer and nodded. "Yeah, I guess she did."

"Dennis Lachance. Dumped. That's somethin' I never thought I'd hear." I grinned devilishly at him. It was kind of fun pressing his buttons.

"Okay, okay, you can stop rubbing it in now," he said.

"Sorry, I just like sayin' it out loud."

He rolled his eyes and took another drink of his beer. "So what about you? You have a girl?"

"Nah," I answered. I'd had my fair share of girls, but they were usually just one-night stands. I'd never had a relationship that lasted more than a week or two. "I ain't lookin' for anything serious."

Denny nodded. "Yeah, you don't seem like a commitment sort of guy." He glanced at me. "Sometimes I wish I could be more like that. I wish I didn't have to take everything so seriously."

"That's just the way you're wired, Lachance."

"No it's not," he insisted. "It's the way my pop's wired." He said it bitterly and I could sense some hostility in his voice.

I took a big sip of beer wondering if he would elaborate.

"I have to tell you, Rich, I can't wait to get out of this town. I might actually be able to live my life the way I want it, instead of the way my pop wants it."

"He's pretty intense?"

Denny hesitated, looking almost apologetic. "Maybe not as intense as your old man," he said, stumbling over his words a bit. "I mean… he doesn't hit me or nothin'…" He trailed off, biting his lip. I could tell he regretted bringing that up.

I shook my head to let him know I wasn't offended and to go on.

"He just wants what's best for me," Denny continued. "I get that. I know that. But he's invested so much time in making sure I succeed in football, in school… and I am constantly afraid that I'll let him down."

I took in what he was saying. I'd always been a little jealous of Denny for everything he'd accomplished, but I never realized how much pressure he was under. He had to constantly live up to expectations. And the way he was talking right now, it sounding like his dad never gave him a break.

My dad was different. He didn't want what was best for us. He just wanted to use us as punching bags. I was never scared of letting him down. I was just scared of _him._ Plain and simple. Denny loved his father. I detested mine.

"Is he as hard on your brother as he is on you?" I asked.

Denny tilted his head at me. I think he was confused that I was actually listening to him – engaged in what he was saying. But the truth is, he was really starting to grow on me. He wasn't the uppity asshole that I thought he was.

Denny let out a big sigh. "Sometimes I think he forgets Gordie even exists."

Gordie. That was the kid Chris always hung around with. Sometimes Chris would talk about his day while we were getting ready for bed, and I'd nod along like I was listening. Gordie's name came up a lot, but I never put it together that he was Lachance's kid brother.

"They just don't share any interests," Denny went on. "All Pop cares about is football, and I don't think Gordie's touched a football in his entire life." Denny chuckled slightly. "He's not all that athletic. But he's a really a neat kid. He loves to write and tell stories – and they're really good. But Pop doesn't know any of that because he's too busy hounding me about football or school. I'm grateful for everything he's done for me, I am. I wouldn't be where I am without him. But Gordie deserves the same attention, you know?"

I nodded vaguely. Denny talked so passionately about his brother. It made me wonder why I didn't feel the same way about Christopher.

"Maybe when I leave for college, things will get better for Gordie," Denny said hopefully. "And maybe they'll get better for me too."

"When do you leave?" I asked.

"End of June," Denny answered. "We start training the first weekend of July."

"You excited?"

"I think I'm more nervous than excited," Denny said. "But I think that's how you're supposed to feel before going off to college."

"Yeah," I agreed. "You want another beer?" I nodded toward the one he'd just finished.

"No, I'm good," Denny said. "I do want a soda though." He called the bartender over and we ordered our respective drinks.

Like I said, we stayed in that bar for nearly three hours. We got to know each other. I found it strange how easy it was to talk to Lachance. It wasn't anything like talking to Ace. I mean, it was a two-way conversation. I talked, Lachance listened. Lachance talked, I listened. It was refreshing.

And by the end, I knew for certain that my opinion of Denny had changed. He deserved everything he got. Hell, he probably even deserved more. Being with him made me want to be better. And to do better. I promised myself right then and there that I _would_ graduate high school. It was something I wanted to do for myself.

It was the first goal I ever set in my life.


	12. Chapter 12

Ace's grandmother passed away two Saturdays later.

The worst part about her death was that it was essentially unrelated to her stay in the hospital. She had been released from the hospital four days before, on Tuesday, and she was back to her normal self. Or at least, that's how Ace had put it. I thought everything was A-okay.

But then I woke up on Saturday morning to Ace shaking me, and it was immediately evident that something was wrong. He'd turned the nightstand light on and I could see that his cheeks were streaked with tears. His entire body was trembling. I sat up quickly.

"What's going on?" I asked cautiously, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

"She's dead."

It took me a while, in my half-conscious state, to process what he said. "What?"

"She fell in the shower," Ace told me, his voice wavering. "Hit her head. She's gone."

I felt like the wind was knocked out of me. I didn't know what to say. I felt completely and utterly helpless. "Ace…"

He sat down on the foot of the bed, his shoulders hunched forward. He was shaking so much, and I knew that this was too much for him to take. The nursing home must've just called with the news because he was really struggling to hold it together. In that moment, he didn't look like the tough, daunting Ace that I knew. He just looked like a scared shitless kid.

I slipped out from under the covers so I could sit next to him, glancing at the clock. It was almost noon.

I cleared my throat gruffly. "I'm so sorry, man," I told him. This news was hard for me to hear, too. I had known Ace's gran well. She took me in many times - fed me, clothed me, looked after me - before she had to be put in the home.

Ace let his head drop into the palms of his hands. "This can't be happening," he breathed. "Fuck."

I rested my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, dismissing my sympathy.

"Eyeball, don't," he said, his voice breaking. He kept his head down.

I swallowed hard. "Okay," I said, drawing my hand back. It was hard seeing him like this and not being able to comfort him.

So I just sat in silence, watching him try to contain his sobs that seemed determined to surface. I didn't dare speak.

After what seemed like ages, Ace lifted his head to look at me. He was still shaking but he'd gotten control of his breathing.

"Are you okay?" I asked as gently as I could. He didn't answer me. Instead, he stood up, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and started heading to the door. "Let's go get a drink," he said as he pulled open the door.

I jumped up and followed him out to the TV room. "Ace, I really don't think—" I stopped short when I realized that Billy was passed out on the couch and Charlie was asleep in the armchair. They must've stayed over after our poker game we'd had the night before. I lowered my voice. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Ace ignored me. He started pulling on his shoes that were sitting by the front door. Then he whistled at Charlie and Billy to wake up. "Get up, pussies, we're going to Barrels." Barrels was the name of the bar we frequented.

"No we ain't," I told them, as they sat up, squinting their eyes at us. "Ace, just sit down, man."

"No," he said stubbornly, bending down to tie his shoes.

"What's goin' on?" Billy asked.

Ace and I made eye contact before I answered. "Ace's gran died," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Billy and Charlie's eyes widened. "What? You said she was doin' better!" Charlie said, disbelief evident in his voice. "Jesus Christ, Ace. I'm sorry, man."

"I'm sorry, Ace," Billy agreed. His voice had taken a rare form of sincerity.

Ace didn't acknowledge their condolences. Instead, he turned his gaze on me. "I need a drink," he said firmly. "And I need out of here. You guys comin' or what?"

I glanced nervously at Billy who'd been watching Ace carefully. He met my gaze and nodded slowly. I let out a heavy sigh. Maybe getting some alcohol in Ace wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe it'd help him relax a bit. "Yeah, we're comin'."

* * *

Barrels wasn't even remotely crowded. It was only a little after noon, so only washed out drunks were at the bar.

The dayshift bartender, Steve, greeted us when we walked in the door. He was in his late 30s and he sort of reminded me of a used car salesman. You know, the type that tries to win you over but still ends up offending you somehow.

"Hi, Steve," we answered solemnly.

"Whoa, who died?" he asked, chuckling to himself. He obviously didn't realize the potential repercussions of his question.

We didn't dignify that question with an answer. "Steve, why don't you pour us four Brooklyn Lagers," Billy said as he slid onto his stool at the bar. "And do us a favor and keep that wise-crackin' trap of yours shut today. You dig?"

"Sounds like you boys woke up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin'." Steve turned around, waving his hand dismissively above his head. "Your drinks'll be right up."

I took my seat next to Ace at the bar. He'd been silent since we'd started our walk to the pub. "You doin' alright?" I asked softly. He was staring straight forward, his eyes focused on the clock above the drink specials.

Ace just shrugged and let out a shuddering breath.

I patted him on the back as Steve set down four filled mugs in front of us. Billy immediately lifted his to start drinking, but Charlie stopped him. "Hey," he said, lifting up his own mug, hoping for us to do the same. He eyed Ace and cleared his throat. "To Florence."

"To Florence," we repeated, and clanked our mugs together.

We remained in the bar, our hearts aching for our friend and heavy with grief. Billy and Charlie knew as well as I did that these next couple of weeks would be hard on Ace, and we knew we'd have to do everything in our power to keep this from breaking him.

It was a burden we were willing to take on. Because if this broke Ace, then there was no fucking hope for the rest of us.


	13. Chapter 13

Ace was really struggling, to the point where he was barely even functioning.

Charlie, Billy, and I had sort of set up camp at Ace's place, just to keep an eye on him. And we were forced into being responsible for a change, because Ace could barely do anything on his own. Billy even cooked full meals, in hopes of getting Ace to eat. Unfortunately, his main source of calorie intake was from the beer he'd so suddenly become accustomed to.

In addition to not eating, he wouldn't talk. Ace had always been a pretty quiet guy, but after his gran passed, he could've passed as a mute. And it was hard on us because we didn't know what to say either. Ace had always been our leader, and it was scary seeing him so crippled.

I thanked the heavens above when Dottie Brower showed up on his doorstep a couple of days later. I knew she'd be his saving grace, because Ace still had funeral arrangements to worry about. And he hadn't given a single look to brochures Charlie had gone to get.

Dottie helped him through that, which was a relief to me. I don't think I would have been able to stand it, watching him pick out a coffin for his gran. I wanted nothing more than to support him, but that would have been too grim.

* * *

I ventured back to my house on Tuesday night. I hadn't been back to my place in two weeks - not since my last run-in with Pop. It was the longest I'd ever stayed away. I'd never stayed away longer than a week before. I wanted to go back to pick up some things. I was tired of borrowing Ace's clothes all the time.

I went late in the middle of the night. Pop would be at work and Mom and Chris would be asleep. I was hoping to get in and get out, without having to interact with anybody. I knew that was a long shot. Chris was the lightest sleeper I knew.

The door to our house is always unlocked. I think Ma leaves it open so Pop can find his way back when he's drunk, without having to fumble around with his key. Besides, we don't have anything worth stealing anyway.

I opened the door to my room slowly, cursing it silently as it creaked. I could see Chris's form in his bed, and I was relieved that he didn't stir. I tiptoed across the room, using only the moonlight creeping in the window to guide me. In hindsight, I probably should've brought a flashlight, because I stubbed my toe on the leg of my bed on my way to the dresser.

"Shit!" I cursed loudly, giving up on the whole "not waking Chris" thing. I dropped the duffel bag I was carrying to the floor.

Chris flipped on the light to his night stand just seconds later. I was still hopping about, trying to get my damn toe to stop throbbing.

"What the fuck are _you_ doing here?" I heard Chris say. His voice was hostile, and I knew he was upset with me. This is what I'd been trying to avoid.

"Just picking up some clothes," I told him through gritted teeth, limping over to my dresser.

Chris got out of bed, and crossed the room, just so he could slam my dresser drawer shut. I just barely got my hand free in time.

"Picking up clothes, so you can leave again?" he demanded, getting right into my face.

"That's right," I said evenly, pushing him to the side. I couldn't deal with him right now. I had bigger things to worry about. I had goddamn Ace to worry about.

But that's when I saw it. The black eye. So blackened that Chris couldn't even open his right eye fully. My stomach dropped into my toes. I didn't have to ask him who'd done that. I knew. Our Pop was one mean son of gun, but he rarely ever went for our faces. This meant things were bad.

I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back in towards me, trying to get a better look. "Jesus Christ, Christopher," I breathed.

"Don't!" he yelled, pulling his wrist free. He pushed me with so much force that I stumbled into the dresser. "Don't you _dare_ act like you care about me."

"Chris, look—" I felt like I needed to explain myself.

" _Don't_ ," he said again, his eyes overflowing with tears. "Don't feed me some excuse like you always do. I'm sick of it."

I closed my mouth and took a step back. He was right. All I ever did was feed him excuses. And the truth was, my hatred for my father trumped everything I felt about about Christopher. I cared about Christopher. A lot. But staying away was so much easier. Less painful.

"Chris…" I tried again. But what could I say?

Chris wasn't hearing it anyway. "Just get your shit and leave, Rich," he said harshly.

I didn't move. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I had to fix this.

" _Leave_." Again, when I made no effort to move, Chris picked up my duffel bag and started stuffing it with my clothes, ranting the entire time. "I don't need you here. Hell, I don't _want_ you here," he said, angrily shoving everything he could fit into my bag. "You're a selfish piece of shit, Rich. You're a coward."

I stood, stunned. There was that "coward" accusation again. And I knew, in Chris's eyes, that was the worst thing I could be.

Chris shoved the bag into my arms. "Get out. Get _OUT_."

I was sunk. Chris was done with me. I didn't know how to fix this. And I had a feeling hanging around would just make matters worse. I bit down on my lip and headed to the door without another word. Chris followed me. The second I stepped out of the room, the door slammed behind me, and I jumped at the noise.

I dropped the bag down by my feet, and just stood in the dark hallway for a while. I felt numb and my knees felt weak. But then I realized I didn't want to stay in that house a second longer. Chris didn't want me there, so what was the point? I grabbed my bag and tore out of that place.

I kept running once I got outside. I'm not sure why. I was crying and all it did was make my breathing more labored. I was eventually forced to come to a halt in order to catch my breath. I all but collapsed under an oak tree. I vaguely realized I was near the entrance to Stansbury Park, halfway between my house and Ace's place.

I took deep breaths, trying to get my breathing to slow. I tried not to think about it, but I kept seeing Chris's face in my mind. How upset he'd been, his black eye… the way he looked at me with pure disappointment.

I knew something had to change. I had to prove to Christopher that I was worth something. I had to clean up my act. And I was going to start by graduating high school.

I just had to get Ace through his gran's funeral first.


	14. Chapter 14

"Ace."

Nothing. The lump in the bed didn't stir.

I tried again, this time shaking his shoulder. "Ace. You have to get up."

He groaned and wiped a lazy hand over his face. He'd drunk himself out of house and home the night before, and I knew all too well how he was feeling this morning.

"You have to start getting ready, man. I'll help you."

Billy appeared in the doorway, wearing what I assumed was his old man's suit. It was a little big on him. I'd gotten mine from the thrift store. It was a little raggedy and there was a stain on the left sleeve, but it was the best I could do with what I could afford.

"C'mon, Ace, up and at 'em," Billy said. He wasn't messing around. He grabbed Ace by the arm and pulled him up, while I pulled open the blinds.

Ace winced as the light hit his eyes. "Fuck," he breathed.

"Yeah, hurts, don't it?" Billy said, his sympathy lacking. "We told you not to overdo it last night, man."

"Here, put this on," I said. I handed Ace the suit Dottie rented for him. "We have like 15 minutes before we need to split. You want something to eat?"

"Not hungry," he grunted. "Get outta here guys. I think I can handle getting dressed." He pushed us out the door and closed it behind us.

Billy and I met each others' eyes. "This is going to suck," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

" _Hard_ ," I agreed.

* * *

I'd never been to a funeral before.

Let me be very blunt when I say this.

Funerals _suck_.

The gang was all there. Me, Billy Charlie, Mudgett, Vince, Fuzzy… we'd all ditched work or school. We were hardly ever all together anymore, but this time there were no excuses. We had to be there. It was law.

We stood, arms hanging at our sides, standing as sturdily as we could beside our leader. Our captain, if you will.

_"She's gone," Ace had drunkenly slurred the night before. "I got no one left."_

_"What are we, chopped liver?" Vince droned._

_"You know what I mean, dickhead. I got no blood left."_

We called ourselves the Cobras, and nothing was more sacred to us than the membership in our gang. We prided ourselves in being dangerous, of being feared. If nothing else, we had that.

But that day, we didn't feel dangerous. We weren't looking for trouble. We were looking for peace. Peace for our leader, our captain.

Peace we weren't sure he would ever find.

A couple of people got up to say some words about Ace's gran. Dottie was one of them. She brought some cheeriness to a day full of grief. It takes a powerful woman to do that.

Dottie spoke about Florence and how she would invite her to eat dinner with her. How she liked to do puzzles. How she collected stamps. How she always treated people with respect. How she had an eye for four leaf clovers. How she spoke passionately about her grandson… "She was a beautiful lady, inside and out, and she will be dearly missed."

When she was done speaking, she asked Ace if he'd like to say a few words.

Ace was a deer in the headlights if I ever saw one. He quickly shook his head, and rubbed a hand over his face. Ace wasn't one to talk about his emotions, especially in front of a large group of people. But I think he felt guilty that he hadn't prepared anything, because for the rest of the service, he hung his head and tears dripped down his face and onto his shoes. Fuzzy slung an arm around Ace's shoulders and he didn't let go until the seven of us were the only ones remaining by the grave.

* * *

We went back to Ace's place after. We asked him if he wanted to be alone, but he shook his head no. "I just want to sit back, have a beer, and watch some goddamned TV," he sighed. "And I want you guys to stay."

That we could do.

There was a marathon of _Maverick_ reruns playing, and that's what Ace settled on. We sat, drinking beer, and watching in silence. I'd pulled out my geometry book and started going over it. That test was closer than it seemed. And I'd missed a tutoring session that day.

It was around six o'clock when there was a knock on Ace's front door. Since Ace, and no one else in the gang, made any effort to move, I stood from the floor to go see who it was.

I nearly choked when I saw who was standing on the doorstep.

It was Lachance.

I quickly slipped out the door to talk to him, hoping that no one had seen. "What are you doing here?" I hissed, closing the door behind me.

Denny grinned. "Hey, Rich," he said casually.

I just stared at him. For as smart as he was, Denny sure was oblivious to how dangerous it was for someone like him to turn up here uninvited. I hadn't breathed a word to the gang about Denny helping me out in geometry, so they all still loathed his guts.

"How was the funeral today?" he asked. His grin had disappeared and his eyebrows were knotted together, showing his sympathy.

Bewildered, I answered, "It was a goddamn funeral. How do you think it was?"

Denny bit down on his lip. "Pretty rough, huh?"

"Yeah." I let out a deep breath, shooting a nervous glance behind me at the closed front door.

"How's Ace doing?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "He's doin' alright, I guess, considering," I told him. "Why are you here?"

Before Denny could answer, the door swung open. Ace stood at the doorway, beer in hand. I gulped and made sure to step between him and Lachance.

"Eyeball, who the fuck's here?" Ace asked, peering around me.

"Um, Ace… This is Denny Lachance," I said, pulling Denny a little closer to me. "He's uh, been helpin' me out with geometry some."

Denny took a step forward, and extended his arm to shake hands. "Nice to meet you, Ace," he said. "I'm sorry about your grandmother."

Ace just stared at Denny's extended arm. "What are you doing here?" he asked, as Fuzzy and Vince appeared behind him at the door.

Denny dropped his arm and leaned up against the railing. "Me and some guys are startin' a football game up at the school, but we need more players. I was wonderin' if you lot might be interested."

I heard Vince and Fuzzy snicker behind Ace. And I hurriedly explained, "Look Lachance, we ain't really the football playin' type…" I let out a deep breath. "And I don't think Ace—"

"Shut up a second, Eyeball," Ace interrupted harshly, his eyes flicking to Denny. He looked him up and down. "Football game you say?"

"Yeah, just a little pick-up game we have in the works."

Ace was staring at Lachance, and Denny had looked down at his shoes, out of nervousness I'm sure. After a couple of moments, Ace snapped out of his daze. "Let's do it," he said, turning his head to look at me.

I was stunned. "What?"

"I want to play," Ace said. To Denny he said, "We're in."

Denny gave him a toothy grin. "That's great!" he said, winking at me. "Rich, the game starts at seven. You guys can meet us up at the field then." He held his hand out and we exchanged a quick handshake.

"Yeah, see you then, man," I said. We watched him hop off the stoop, get into his Coupe de Ville, and drive away.

"Damn, look at that car," Vince said.

"What do you expect from a self-righteous prick?" Fuzzy asked.

"Hey, he ain't like that," I said, quick to defend. "Ace listen, man, I don't know what you're plannin', but—"

"Woulda been nice to know you've been pallin' around with Football Star," Ace interrupted. "Funny how you failed to mention that."

"I haven't been 'pallin'' around with him," I told him matter-of-factly. "He's just my geometry tutor. So don't stir up any trouble tonight, you dig? I need him to pass that damn class." I let out a sigh. "Besides, Lachance is actually pretty cool, man. He don't deserve it."

Ace was staring at me with those piercing eyes. "He's _cool_?" he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Yeah. I mean it, Ace, don't dig on him." I set my voice firm.

"Relax, Eyeball, I wasn't gonna stir up anything anyways," Ace said, realizing I meant business. "Jesus, I just want to play a game of football. And you're actin' like I'm about to hold up a bank."

"It just doesn't seem like you," I said tiredly, starting to head back inside.

"I just want to blow off some steam," Ace said. "That's it."

I met his eyes. "Yeah?"

"I swear."

"Okay." I let out a sigh. "Let's go tell the other guys."


	15. Chapter 15

That night was one of the strangest nights of my life, playing football under the stars with Denny's friends.

I was nervous. Nervous that Ace might snap, nervous that the gang would turn a game into a fist fight, nervous that I would make a fool out of myself.

Denny had us line up on the field. There were about 25 of us total.

"Why are we here?" Mudgett complained to me under his breath, eyeing the others. They all had on athletic shorts and cut-offs, while we all had on jeans and T-shirts. "We don't belong here."

"We're doin' it for Ace," I said back.

"Well, we're gonna get our asses handed to us," Billy chimed in. "Why the fuck did Ace agree to this?"

"Beats me," I answered. I always thought Ace was hard to read before, but tonight took the cake. I didn't understand his angle. "Just try to have fun, huh?"

"With _these_ pussies?" Mudgett scoffed. "Yeah right."

Denny clapped his hands together. "Alright, listen up!" he said happily. "We've got some new guys here tonight." He patted Ace and me on the back. "This is Ace, and Richard, and…" he looked at me for guidance since he didn't know the names of the other guys in our gang.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, uh, this is Vince, Fuzzy, Charlie, Billy, and Mudgett," I said, motioning with my thumb at the guys.

Denny then went through and told us all the names of his friends. I recognized most of them from school, but only knew a few by name. I knew Denny's best friend's name, Clyde Walker. They'd been best friends since grade school. Clyde was sort of a shrimpy guy and he was the water boy for the football team. Usually, being the water boy is a one-way ticket to getting mocked, but since he was friends with Denny, Clyde had always been regarded as "cool" at our school.

There were a couple of other guys I knew. James Moran, Tim Clover, Ronnie Stewart… They were all on the football team. But then I also recognized some people that were in the marching band. Leave it to Lachance to organize the most fucking diverse game of football in history.

"Alright, so here's how this works," Denny said. "We're playing tackle. We don't do that two-hand touch bullshit." He grinned and winked at me. "I'm all-time QB. Merrill and Clover, you two will be captains, and you get to pick the teams." He glanced at Ace, who was smoking a cigarette. "That cool?"

"Yeah, whatever, man," Ace said. He stomped his cigarette out on the ground and stepped forward so he was facing the line, next to Clover.

"You pick first, Merrill," Clover said.

Ace didn't have to think twice. "Eyeball."

I stepped out of line and went to stand behind him.

"You know I suck, right?" I asked under my breath. I hadn't played a lick of football my entire life. My extent of football knowledge was watching the televised Ducks games during our poker tournaments on Saturday nights. I knew the rules, but skill wise I was dumber than a sack of rocks.

"So what?" Ace whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "I'm just here to hit some faggots without getting jailed for assault."

I laughed. So _that_ was his angle.

Clover surprisingly picked one of our gang: Billy. I guess he did look the most athletic out of all of us.

Ace picked Mudgett, Clover picked Stewart. Ace picked Vince, Clover picked Walker. It went on like that until all the teams had been divided equally. And that was that. The game was ready to start.

Clover's team was skins and we were shirts. According to Denny, skins always get the ball first. So my team was on defense.

Ace kicked off. He sent the ball rocketing to the end of the field. I gaped at him. I never knew he could kick like that. One of the skins' players caught the ball and took a knee. They'd start at the 20 yard line.

"Nice kick, Merrill," Clover commended.

"Yeah, damn, Ace." Charlie was impressed.

"Don't act so damn surprised," Ace grumbled, the hint of a smile on his lips.

We lined up at the 20. Clyde snapped the ball to Lachance, and we were were off. I'd been matched up with Fuzzy, and I followed his every move. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Ronnie Stewart was wide open near our 30 yard line. Lachance saw it too. He dodged Billy who was trying to sack him, and sent the ball spiraling 50 yards to where Stewart was standing. It's no wonder that he had a full-ride to Michigan State. It was the perfect throw, if not for Ace.

Ace, who'd been guarding two other skins, immediately changed direction. I swear to you, it was like slow motion. He had to have been 20 yards away when Denny threw the ball, but suddenly he was right by Stewart's hip, and leaping into the air. And you won't believe me when I tell you, but he caught the damn thing. He intercepted the ball.

He landed on his feet with a thud, and only hesitated a second before he started running the ball back.

The skins couldn't believe it. None of us could. Fucking Ace Merrill was a stud.

Stewart, completely mystified by what just happened, remained frozen on the spot. Lucky for him, Billy was able to cut Ace off and tackle him at the 40 yard line.

Ace hopped right back up, smirking, and he was applauded and cheered for by just about everyone on the field. Everyone except Stewart that is.

Denny was especially impressed. He was banging his hands together and pacing back and forth. He was so jazzed, he could barely contain himself. "Alright!" he shouted happily. "This is gonna be a good game!"

Ace Merrill. Never ceases to amaze me.

* * *

We played well past sundown. We didn't call it quits until we'd lost complete visibility of the football. Ace was MVP, second only to Denny. He made more tackles, more touchdowns, more field goals than I could count. I'd known Ace nine years, and I hadn't had a clue about his football capabilities. I was stunned, but I was also relieved. Ace was enjoying himself. That game gave him a break from his grief.

When we finally called it quits, we all went our separate ways. Most of the gang went back to their own places, but Billy, Charlie, and I were still planning on staying with Ace. I told them to hold on, because I wanted a quick word with Denny before we took off. I pulled Lachance aside.

"Why didn't you tell me Merrill was a beast at football?" Denny asked, chuckling lightly.

"I didn't know it," I told him honestly. "He was good, huh?"

"That's an understatement," Denny said. "I wonder where he learned to play like that."

"Your guess is as good as mine." I met Denny's eyes. I drew in a deep breath, preparing for those foreign words of gratitude again. "Look Lachance, you really helped him out tonight. I never would've known it, but I think this is what he needed. So uh, thanks, man."

Denny laughed. "I'm tellin' you Chambers, football's more than just a game. It's a miracle worker. An escape."

I jammed my hands in my pockets. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"We have a pick-up game every Wednesday night if you guys want to give it a go next week too."

I glanced over at Ace. He was leaning against the goalpost and smoking a cigarette with Charlie and Billy. "Yeah, maybe," I told Lachance uncertainly. I didn't want to commit to anything without hearing what Ace had to say.

Denny sighed. "Look, I know your lot and I aren't from the same crop of the land," he said. "But that doesn't matter in football." He looked thoughtful for a minute. "It doesn't matter ever, really." He grinned at me. "Think about it, okay?"

I told him I would, said goodbye, and returned to Ace and the others.

* * *

"So are you gonna tell me what that was all about?" I asked Ace, as we started the trek back to his place. Billy and Charlie were a couple of paces ahead of us.

Ace took a long drag on his cigarette. "What?" He blew the smoke out in my face.

"Oh come on, Ace, don't play dumb. Where'd you learn to play like that?" _And how come I never knew about it?_

Ace just shrugged.

There he went, being a closed book again. "Ace, c'mon."

Ace stopped in his tracks, under a streetlight, and turned to face me. "I learned from my dad, alright?" His voice was bitter, and so was the expression on his face. "Drop it, will you?" He looked like he might cry.

But I didn't want to drop it. Ace _never_ talked about his parents. And I was curious. "Your dad died nine years ago, Ace," I said softly. How was he that good at football, so many years later?

"Yeah, well, he sort of drilled it into me," he snapped. Then, out of nowhere, Ace kicked the lamppost. "Fuck," he snarled, and I jumped back in surprise. I was horrified when tears started spilling out of his eyes. He tossed his cigarette out, balled his hands into fists, and squeezed his eyes tight. "Eyeball, don't make me talk about this. Not tonight."

I swallowed hard. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting, and I certainly didn't want to push Ace's limits any further. Not on the same day he'd buried his grandmother. I'd just ruined any good spirits Ace might've had, and I felt like shit for it.

"Okay," I said gently. "I'm sorry. It's dropped."

Ace reopened his bleary eyes. "Good," he said hoarsely. He turned on his heel pointedly, and we continued the walk home in silence.


	16. Chapter 16

"Mr. Chambers." Mr. Bates' voice stopped me at the door.

It was the beginning of April, a Tuesday, and the bell had just rung. I was eager on getting out of that geometry classroom.

I turned around, reminding my self to be polite. "Yessir?"

"I'd like a word with you." He motioned to the table in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

I obediently did what I was told and settled into the chair.

Mr. Bates cleared his throat. "How are your tutoring sessions going?"

"They're good, I guess," I said, shrugging. "Lachance knows what he's talkin' about."

Bates grinned. "He's a smart kid." He folded his arms across his chest. "He speaks very highly of you, Richard."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

Bates nodded. "Really." He took a drink out of the water bottle on his desk, looking thoughtful. "Maybe I was wrong about you, Chambers. You've done a good job these last couple of weeks. Dennis says you're almost finished with the material."

"Uh, yessir, we only have proofs left." I couldn't believe that Mr. Bates, of all people, was giving me praise.

"So I'm betting you'll want to take this test here pretty soon, while the material's still fresh, huh?"

"Yeah, that would be good," I said.

"Let's set a date."

* * *

"April 26th, huh?" Denny repeated, when I told him the agreed upon date the next day.

"Yeah."

"Good, that'll give us plenty of time to go over proofs." Denny smiled at me. "Have you started going over them in class?"

"Yeah, a little bit," I told him. "I don't really get them though." "Don't worry," Denny said simply. "I'm sure you'll pick up on it in no time."

* * *

Three weeks had passed since Ace lost his grandmother, and he'd gone back to the "tough guy" act. But I knew that's all it was: an act. We shared a wall, and some nights, when I was up real late studying, I could hear him crying himself to sleep.

But during the day, he was rough, hard, and cool again, more than he'd ever been before, and that's saying something. He held himself in a way that commanded us to listen to him. So when he wanted to go on a deal, or he wanted to deface property, or beat up on some kids… we were at his side.

We were his distraction. We were the only people left in his life who gave a shit about him. And because of that, he made sure to keep us close.

The gang and I agreed that Ace just needed to get laid. He needed something to make him feel good again. Actually _good_. Not the bullshit "good" feeling you get from playing mailbox baseball or smoking a joint or drinking yourself into a stupor. No, he needed a _broad_. And I told him that, too.

On Wednesday nights, I'd remind Ace about the football games Denny had going, but he never wanted to go again. I guess the night of the funeral was a one-time thing. I'd tried several times to bring his dad back up. I wanted him to tell me about his dad, football, his life before I knew him. But he always told me to can it whenever I got close.

* * *

At night, I'd think about Chris. I hoped he was okay.

I'd run into him a couple of times on my way to school. I tried to talk to him. I wanted to tell him that I was turning my life around, but he wouldn't hear it. He always gave me the cold shoulder.

One morning, I saw him across the street, walking by the Blue Point Diner. He saw me too, but immediately put his head down. He started walking faster and I felt my hands ball up into fists. I was sick of him ignoring me.

I caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm. "Chris."

He pulled his arm out of my grasp. "Piss off, Eyeball."

His words hit me like a smack in the face. That was the first time he'd ever called me Eyeball. And that really stung - that I wasn't "Richie" to him anymore. It made me mad. Mad that he wasn't giving me any more chances.

I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him up against side of the diner. "For Christ's sake, Christopher, would you just listen to me for one second?"

"What?" he asked through gritted teeth.

I sighed and released my grip on his collar. I didn't think I'd actually get him to listen, and I didn't know what to say. "Just… don't write me off yet," I said softly. "Please."

I'd chickened out. I didn't tell him I was trying to get my diploma because… what if I failed? It'd just be another time I'd let him down. I was done making promises to the kid that I couldn't keep.

Chris was studying my face, his arms folded across his chest. "I'm not gonna hold my breath," he told me icily. "I have to go. I'm late for school."

I reluctantly stepped aside and let him go. With a heavy sigh I continued in the opposite direction, toward Castle Rock High School.

I hadn't gone far when a car beeped beside me. It was Lachance in his Coupe de Ville. "Need a ride?" he asked through the open window.

I let out a deep breath. "That'd be great," I admitted. "Thanks." That little run-in with Christopher had left me feeling drained.

I pulled open the passenger door and settled in the seat. "How's it goin', Chambers?" Denny asked, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

I just shrugged.

"You alright, man?" he asked, his brow furrowed at my silence.

"Yeah," I lied softly. "Fine." There was no way in hell I was going to tell Denny about my falling out with Chris. Not when he had the fucking perfect relationship with his kid brother.

Instead, I made the poor choice of confiding in Ace later that night, when the gang was all over at his place.

"He wants nothing to do with me," I mumbled, popping the cap off my fifth beer of the night.

Ace just laughed. "So what? He's just a punk kid. I don't know why you're getting so worked up about this."

Ace had always had an impermeable hatred toward my kid brother that I never fully understood.

"He's family," I maintained. The only family I cared about.

"Screw family, man," Ace said. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table. "Everyone you need is right here." But he didn't say it with much conviction, and I don't know if he was trying to convince me or himself.

* * *

"Eyeball, seriously? You're studying again?" Ace poked his head into the spare room.

"I'm studying _still_ ," I grumbled. "Finals are comin' up, man. And I ain't failin' this time. I'm gonna graduate. I want to be done with this shit." I'd been pouring over textbooks whenever I got the chance. I wasn't only worried about geometry anymore. I still had to pass my other classes too.

"Charlie's not studying every goddamn waking second," Ace said pointedly. "He's still comin' to The Lumberyard tonight."

"Yeah, well, Charlie's smarter than me," I said simply. "Get outta here."

"No way. You're comin'. It's fucking Friday night! It's a sin to study on a Friday night."

"I ain't comin', Ace." I couldn't. I was too far behind. And there was only a week left until the dreaded geometry test.

"You're the one that said I needed to get some tail," Ace pushed on. "How am I supposed to get any tail without my wingman?"

I sighed. I knew I'd lost this battle.

Ace grinned devilishly at me. "You're comin'."

I reluctantly slammed my book shut. Maybe one night out wouldn't hurt.


	17. Chapter 17

The Lumberyard was Castle Rock's only strip club. The gang and I frequented it regularly. Mainly because of this one broad that Ace was obsessed with - Brandy was her stage name.

She and Ace got together every so often. And it worked for them, because neither one was looking for anything serious.

That night, she cornered me while I was getting a drink from the bar. "Haven't seen you boys in a while," she said, motioning to the bartender for a glass of water. She must've been on break. "Where've ya been?" She flipped her curly blonde hair behind her shoulders and turned to face me.

I hesitated. "Ace has been goin' through a rough time," I told her honestly. "He wasn't really in the mood for… you know."

"For strippers?" Brandy asked, almost offended.

"For anything."

That peaked her interest, and she took a sip of her water, her eyes wide. "What happened?"

I sighed heavily and took a big swig of my beer. "His grandmother died."

She raised her eyebrows. "And that's all it took to put him out of commission?"

"She was his only family. They were close." I squinted at her, bewildered. "You didn't know that?"

Brandy shrugged, looking over at Ace thoughtfully. He and the gang were sitting at a table right in front of the stage. "We don't talk that much," she said. "We keep it strictly physical."

I should have known. "Right."

Brandy smiled at me. "I'll get his spirits up," she promised me.

I returned her smile. "You always do."

* * *

It was Thursday, the afternoon before the big test. And even though it wasn't a normal tutoring day, Denny had offered to meet up with me. He'd written up a practice test that covered everything we'd gone over.

"Ninety-six percent!" Denny said happily, circling my score at the top of the page. "That's great, man!" He held his hand up for a high-five.

I slapped his hand, even though I couldn't believe it. "Really?"

"Yup! And the only things you missed were simple calculation errors. Conceptually, you're there, Rich." Denny was beaming with pride.

I grinned. I'd never gotten a ninety-six percent on anything in my life. It felt good. And I owed it all to Lachance. I wanted to do something to thank him.

"Hey, Denny, let me buy you a drink, man," I said, as I started packing up my bag.

"Chambers, that's not necessary…"

"Yes it is," I interrupted him. We met each others' eyes and I let out a deep breath. "Look, Lachance, I don't know how I would've gotten through these last two months without you." I wasn't just talking about geometry either. I remembered him being there for me when I was sick, driving me up that hill, separating me from my father, inviting the gang to the football game when he knew it would do Ace some good… everything. "Please, let me buy you a drink."

Denny knew he wasn't getting out of this. He laughed. "Alright, man, if you insist."

* * *

"So what are you going to do after you graduate?"

We were at The Den now, side by side at the bar. We'd just finished our beers and Denny had just asked me the question I'd been asking myself for two months now. And I didn't have an a resolute answer for him.

I let out a deep breath. "I'll try and get a steady job, I guess."

"Oh yeah? Where at?"

I stiffened. I didn't know. So I just shrugged, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

Denny noticed. "Sorry, Rich, I didn't mean to stress you out or nothin'," he said. "I'll drop it."

"No, it's okay," I assured him. "I guess I just haven't given it much thought. I've been too focused on gettin' that diploma that I haven't really thought about what'll come after."

"Well, that's okay, man," Denny said. "You're taking it one step at a time. Nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah," I sighed. "But I guess my number one priority will be to patch things up with Christopher."

Denny's expression softened. "Your little brother?"

I nodded. "We've never really been all that close, but…" I trailed off and pinched the bridge of my nose. I couldn't believe I was about to tell Lachance my pathetic little sob story. "But now he won't even talk to me. I haven't been around enough and… and I think things are pretty bad at home." I looked down at the counter.

"You've had a lot on your plate, Rich," Denny told me gently. He sighed. "Look, Chris is a good kid. He won't hold this grudge forever, as long as you explain yourself. I promise you, he'll come around."

"What if he won't listen?" I asked, looking up at him.

"You just have to do something to make him listen," Denny said simply.

_Gee, that isn't vague at all_ , I thought. I was about ask him to elaborate when he looked down at his watch.

"Shoot, it's already past six!" he exclaimed, hopping up.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" I asked.

"Yeah, I promised Clyde I'd go with him to his sister's softball game in Worthington tonight," Denny told me. "I told him I'd meet him at his house at six." He put on his jacket and met my eyes. "But listen, we're not finished talking about this, okay?"

I nodded, and stood up with him. "Yeah, okay."

"Hey, listen, don't study too hard tonight," Denny said. "There's no need. You're ready."

I grinned. "I won't," I told him. "Thanks, Lachance."

We exchanged a firm handshake.

"I'll stop by the classroom tomorrow before your test to wish you good luck," Denny said. "Thanks again for the beer, Rich." He cordially patted me on the arm and exited the bar.

I stuck around for one more beer before I headed home too.

* * *

I went to bed early that night, but I didn't sleep too well. It wasn't nerves or anything like that. It was storms. Severe thunderstorms, with constant lightening bright enough that I could see it through my eyelids. They'd started around 8 o'clock and lasted all the way until three in the morning. I wasn't able to fall into a deep sleep until they were over.

That morning, I woke up a little before my alarm. I was too antsy to go back to sleep so I staggered out to the kitchen, surprised to see Ace up and making eggs at the stove.

I raised my eyebrows. "Whatcha doin'?" I asked.

"What does it look like I'm doin'?" Ace grumbled. "I'm cooking breakfast."

When I just stared at him, Ace decided to explain himself.

"Her majesty wants eggs and toast," he told me. He nodded to the bathroom. "She's takin' a shower."

"Brandy stayed over again?" I asked. Suddenly, I was thankful for the storms. They probably kept me from hearing whatever was going on in the room next to me. "That's what, the fourth night in one week?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is, four days and you're already whipped." I grinned smugly at his suspense.

"Watch yourself, Chambers," he pointed his spatula at me. "I'm not whipped." He turned back to the stove. "You want anything?"

I laughed. "You're offerin' to make me breakfast?"

"No, I'm offerin' to leave the stove on so you can make your own damn breakfast," Ace said smartly. "I ain't your mother."

I sighed. Even though I didn't have much of an appetite, I figured I should eat. They say brain food is good for you before a big test. "Yeah, leave it on."

Ace put Brandy's breakfast on a plate and took a seat at the kitchen table.

I cracked an egg into the pan. "You need to be careful, Ace," I told him.

"Careful with what?"

"With Brandy," I said. "Strippers are notorious heartbreakers."

Ace snorted. "I ain't in love with her or nothin', Eyeball. Relax."

"Oh yeah?" I turned around to face him. "I'm not blind, Ace. You two have been bangin' each other off and on for months now, and not once have you made her breakfast. I mean, what the hell is that?"

"Relax, man. It doesn't mean anything."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the stove. "If you say so."

* * *

Once I'd finished my breakfast and Brandy was done in the shower, I decided to take a shower myself. I was still doing well on time so I didn't rush.

I was nervous about the test. But I was also a little excited. I knew I was ready, and that's something I'd never experienced before; being ready for a test.

When I exited the spare room, fully clothed and ready to make the trek to school, I noticed that Brandy was gone. Ace was still at the table, staring down at the front page newspaper. He had his head in his hands.

"Ace, where'd Brandy go?" I asked, slinging my book bag over my shoulder.

Ace lifted his head. "I told her to go home," he said, meeting my eyes nervously.

I sighed. "Is it because of what I said?" I asked. "C'mon, man. You're not whipped. I was just joking."

Ace stood up, clutching the newspaper in his hands. "Eyeball, that's not why," he said softly. His voice sounded funny. Gentle.

Something was wrong. I approached him carefully, swallowing thickly. "What's goin' on, Ace?"

"You need to see this," he said, holding the newspaper out to me. It startled me that his hands were shaking. "I'm sorry, man."

I didn't understand what was going on. I gave him a puzzled look and took the paper from him. I bit my lip and looked down.

The headline hit me like a thousand bricks:

"DENNIS LACHANCE KILLED IN JEEP ACCIDENT."


	18. Chapter 18

I had to read that headline three times before I registered what it said. I didn't read any more. I couldn't, because I dropped the paper like it was on fire. I backed up. I backed up right into the kitchen cabinet. "No," I whispered, my eyes searching Ace's face. I don't know why I looked to him. I was looking to him in the hope that he knew something I didn't. That Denny wasn't dead. But Ace just stared back at me, his eyes softer than I'd ever seen, a look of pure bewilderment on his face.

I remained frozen, my back pressed up against the cabinet. I squeezed my eyes shut because the room started to spin. I couldn't move. I was completely and utterly numb.

"Eyeball," I heard Ace say. He was closer now, in front of me. "Are you okay?"

"I-I don't know," I stammered, reopening my eyes, trying to focus on Ace's face. "I mean, _fuck_ , man." I was well aware that I was shaking. My stomach felt like it had a hunk of ice in its pit and my face was hot. I felt like I could pass out right there on the kitchen floor.

"Maybe you should sit down…" Ace said, reaching out for me. His voice was so gentle, so unlike _him_. He took me by the arm and led me to a chair. "Sit, Eyeball."

I obeyed, mainly because my knees buckled underneath me, so I really didn't have another choice. I collapsed into the chair, running my fingers through my hair, trying to calm down. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Ace was standing in front of me, arms folded, watching. "You look like you're gonna hurl," he said. "Are you gonna hurl?"

I shook my head no, even though I really didn't know for sure. I cleared my throat, but my words still came out gravelly. "What else does the paper say?" Ace knew I hadn't gotten past the headline.

He let out a deep breath and pulled over another chair so he could sit down in front of me. "Just that Lachance was the passenger in a Jeep on his way back from Worthington. That shrimpy kid he hung around with was driving. Walker."

I swallowed. Clyde. "Did he… is he…?"

Ace knew what I was getting at. He shook his head. "Critical condition. Coma."

"Jesus."

Ace nodded vaguely. "I dunno, I guess with the storms he just… lost control. Ran head-on into a tree."

I let my head drop into my hands. _Goddammit, Clyde_.

I felt sick. Denny had so much to live for. He couldn't be gone. He just couldn't be.

He was the last person on the planet that deserved to die. I squeezed my eyes shut as memories spent with Denny over the past two months flashed before me. The car ride up the hill, getting drinks at the bar, learning geometry… He'd been so generous, so patient. And he'd wasted precious moments of his last bit of life with me - a guy who paled in comparison to him.

I knew what I had to do. "I have to get to school," I said softly, determinedly. I wasn't going to let Denny's efforts go to waste. I was going to take that test.

"Eyeball…"

I shook my head. Ace wasn't going to talk me out of this. "I have to get to school," I repeated, my voice set firm. I could feel tears starting to prick my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. You don't cry in front of Ace if you can help it.

Ace cursed under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay," he gave in wearily. "I'll drive you."

* * *

"School might not even be open," Ace told me pointedly, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. "I bet you anything the whole town shuts down this morning."

He was just trying to break the silence. We hadn't spoken a word to each other the entire car ride.

I ignored him, gripping my backpack closer to my chest.

We pulled into the school parking lot. There were no buses and I noticed that some cars were leaving the lot. Some students were standing outside of the school building, some hugging each other, others crying.

Ace parked the car and I was surprised when he got out with me. He had to get to work. "I want to see what's going on," he said simply when I gave him a strange look. Months later, Ace would tell me that he just didn't want to leave me. Said I had a crazy look in my eyes.

I sighed and turned to the front door. I climbed up the steps, Ace at my heels.

"School's cancelled," someone on the steps told me. I wasn't bothered to see who it was. "You can go home."

I didn't stop.

"Eyeball." Ace grabbed me by the arm, bringing me to a halt at the top of the stairs.

"What?" I asked through gritted teeth.

Ace was pointing at the bulletin on the side of the building. "I was right," he said smugly. "The town _is_ shutting down."

I gazed over to where Ace was pointing, and sure enough, a notice on the bulletin was telling students to go home:

**Due to this morning's news of two Castle Rock students being involved in a fatal car crash, classes are cancelled. Students are asked to take an extended weekend in order to grieve. Please return on Monday for final exams.**

**A vigil will be held tonight at 7:00 in Hopkins Stadium to honor the memory of Dennis Lachance and to take part in prayer for the recovery of Clyde Walker.**

**Thank you.**

Next to the notice, someone had posted Denny and Clyde's senior pictures. I couldn't stop staring at Denny's face. I was lucky Ace was there to snap me out of it.

"Okay," he said softly, pulling my arm gently. "Let's go, man."

But I shook my head, reaching for the handle on the front door, still focused on what I'd come here to do. "I have to see if Bates is here," I told him hoarsely. "You can go."

Apparently Ace didn't care about work, because he followed me inside.

I led the way down the halls, past lockers, trying to keep my vision clear. I was on a mission.

I came to a stop in front of Bates' door. His classroom light was on and the door was open. I peered around the corner, relieved to see him sitting at his desk. I knocked on the doorframe.

He looked up from whatever he was reading, frowning slightly when he saw me. "Mr. Chambers," he said, setting his reading glasses on his desk. "What are you doing here?" He rose from his chair and crossed the room to meet me.

I swallowed hard, looking up at him nervously. Mr. Bates' eyes were red and puffy and I was near certain he'd been crying. I gaped at him a moment before answering. "I, uh, I-I'm here to take the test."

Mr. Bates gave me a half-hearted smile. "Rich, I'm not going to make you take the test today," he said gently. It was bizarre hearing that tone from him. "Hell, I might let you off the hook completely."

I felt my heart start to beat faster. He couldn't do that. Not after all the time Denny had spent on me. "I want to take it," I said as strongly as I could make my voice. "Please."

Mr. Bates furrowed his brow at me in confusion, even more so when Ace stepped into his sight from the hallway. He glanced suspiciously in his direction.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Ace asked him without missing a beat.

Mr. Bates looked from me to him. "Okay…" he said unsurely. To me he said, "Go ahead and sit down, Rich." Then he stepped out into the hall with Ace.

I could hear them talking in low tones as I went to sit down at my usual desk. I pulled a pencil out of my book bag and waited. I wondered vaguely what Ace could be saying to Bates, but I was honestly too exhausted to care. All I wanted to do was take this test and then go to bed, so I could wake up from what I prayed was a nightmare.

When Mr. Bates returned to the classroom, he closed the door behind him, sighing slightly. He looked a bit shaken up, but I didn't give much thought to it.

He cleared his throat. "Your friend said he'd wait for you in the car," he informed me. He walked over to his desk and shuffled around some papers. After a couple of moments, he held up what I assumed was my test. "Are you sure you want to do this, Rich? You don't have to."

"I'm sure." I looked him right in the eyes.

Mr. Bates tilted his head at me slightly.

"What?" I asked through tight lips.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I just think I misjudged you, is all." He set the test down in front of me. "Take all the time you need, kid."

I let out a deep breath and looked down at the first problem.

_This is for you, Lachance._


	19. Chapter 19

As strange as it may sound, I didn't want the test to end.

For one thing, it served as a distraction. As I worked through all the problems in my head or scribbled them out in the margins of the test, I didn't have time to think about Lachance. But deep down I knew, once I handed the test in, I'd be right back to reality. A reality I wasn't sure I could handle.

Secondly, I was doing well on the test, and I knew it. It was a strange sensation, mainly because there was no sensation at all. If I had allowed myself to feel anything at that moment, if Denny wasn't dead, I think I would've felt joy. I think I would've been having fun. But somehow I'd managed to completely numb myself, my feelings.

When I wrote my answer to the last problem, my hands started to shake. Bad.

It was like I knew, on some sub-conscious level, that turning in the test meant more than whether or not I'd pass geometry. I was turning in Denny's efforts along with it. The test was only a fraction of what he'd done for me, but at that moment, it felt like the entire world.

I looked up from my desk, for the first time since I'd started the test, to see Mr. Bates watching me, staring at my trembling hands.

"Are you okay, Richard?" he asked, his voice concerned.

I dropped my pencil on the desk. "Yeah. Fine." I clenched my fists together to get my hands to stop shaking and then I stood up. I was determined to at least hold it together until I was away from Bates. "I'm finished," I informed him. I grabbed the test off my desk and held it out to him.

He stood too, taking the test from my earthquaking hands, a frown plastered to his face "How'd it go?" he asked unsurely.

I felt tears start to leak out of my eyes and I wished the ground would just swallow me up. I didn't dare to speak so I just raised a shoulder in a shrug. "I-I… um…" I couldn't make out my words. _I have to go._ But I couldn't move. My feet were planted in one spot and I was frozen. And Mr. Bates was moving around his desk, toward me.

I swallowed hard, my face burning from embarrassment. I looked down at my feet, feeling the shadow of Bates in front of me. I felt like I might pass out right there on the floor.

Mr. Bates lifted my chin up so I'd look at him. Even through my blurred vision I could see sympathy on his face. But I didn't want sympathy from him. I wasn't sure what I wanted or what I needed.

I tried to keep in tact, I really did. But his light touch beneath my chin and his gentle voice as he spoke my name caused the breakage of the dam I was so desperately trying to keep up. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I let out a choked sob, and I would've stumbled forward if Bates hadn't been in front of me.

"Whoa, Chambers," he breathed, steadying me, his arms outstretched. "You alright?"

I shook my head. I had no energy left in me to hold my usual demeanor. I wasn't alright, and Bates knew it. I was shaking like a leaf and I couldn't stop.

What happened next was one of the most bizarre interactions I've ever had in my life.

Mr. Bates hugged me.

One moment I was at an arm's length, the next moment I was pulled into his chest, his arms wrapped around me tightly.

My first instinct was to pull away. I hadn't been hugged in years, and this situation unsettled me at first. Especially since it was Bates - someone I'd been butting heads with the entire year. Someone who'd looked down on me. Someone I was conditioned to be afraid of.

But Mr. Bates didn't let go as I tried to pull out of his grasp. If anything he held me tighter, and I could feel myself trembling against his chest. Very quickly, I realized that I didn't want to pull away. That this sensation of being hugged actually felt _good_. I felt _safe_.

I wondered how this must look. I mean, I was a member of the most feared gang in town, and I was letting a fucking schoolteacher hug me. But I couldn't bring myself to care. That hug was my saving grace. It's what kept me from going into hysterics.

Looking back, I wonder what Ace and the gang would've said if they'd seen that sight.

Mr. Bates didn't say a word as we stood there, holding the embrace. He just waited patiently until I'd regained my composure.

When I had, he pulled away, keeping one hand on my shoulder. He looked me over carefully then started to thumb away the tears on my cheeks. I flinched away. The hug was one thing, but when he started wiping my face like I was some kind of child, that's where I drew the line.

Mr. Bates cleared his throat gruffly, trying hard not to be offended. "C'mon," he said, reaching down to pick my backpack up for me. He nodded his head at the door. "I'll walk you out."

"No," I said quickly, my voice hoarse. I didn't need an escort. I took my bag from him. "It's okay. I'm okay."

Mr. Bates nodded vaguely, looking skeptical. "Okay," he said unsurely, sighing slightly. "I'll uh- I'll have your test graded by Monday." He swallowed hard. "Get some rest, Rich, you hear?"

I looked down at my shoes. "Yessir." Then I looked back up and met his eyes nervously. "Thanks."

And before any more words could be exchanged, I left, letting the classroom door close behind me.

* * *

Ace and I drove back to his place in silence. I'd managed to stop the tears from leaking from my eyes, which was a relief, because like I said, you just don't cry in front of Ace.

But I was still unbearably sad. I still felt like I was in a nightmare.

When Ace pulled up behind his house and put the car in park, a question occurred to me. "Ace, what'd you say to Bates?"

Ace smirked at me and got out of the car. I got out too, peering at him over the top, waiting for an answer.

"Don't worry about it," he said mysteriously. "C'mon. I've got a six-pack in there with your name on it."

I followed him inside, collapsed on the couch, and put my feet up on the milk crate. Moments later, Ace joined me, beers in hand. He popped the bottle cap off a beer and handed it to me before taking one for himself. I raised mine slightly in appreciation before taking a swig.

"Don't you have work?" I asked after I'd swallowed.

"Fuck work," was all Ace said in reply.

* * *

Charlie came by a while later. He brought more beer so I didn't mind. That's all Ace and I did that morning: drank beer. We didn't talk or nothin'. Just drank, and drank, and drank.

Charlie suggested we turn on the TV, and I thought it was a good idea at first. Maybe it'd get my mind off everything.

Turns out it was the worst idea possible.

Because every station was reporting about the accident. Charlie flipped through all the channels, pausing on one that was showing pictures of Clyde's Jeep, post-crash.

It was horrifying. The passenger side of the Jeep was completely bashed in, contorted in compact angles. You could actually see the indentation of the tree in the Jeep's exterior.

As I took in the sight, I felt the color from my face drain. They continued to show pictures, from all different angles. With each picture I saw, my stomach lurched and the harder it was to breathe. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of there. I needed fresh air.

I set my beer down and bolted to the front porch, letting the screen door slam behind me. As I reached for the railing to help keep myself upright, I heard Ace cuss at Charlie. "For fuck's sake, turn that shit off, man!" he exclaimed. I heard footsteps from inside, then the creak of the screen door, and then Ace was beside to me.

I couldn't un-see what I'd seen, no matter how hard I squeezed my eyes shut or gripped the railing. I stood there, taking ragged breaths, trying to swallow back the bile I felt rising in my throat.

"Be sick if you need to, man," I heard Ace say. "You'll feel better."

But I shook my head. I didn't want to throw up and I was going to put it off as long as possible.

Ace chuckled beside me. "Fine. Be miserable then," he said. He hopped up so he was sitting on the railing. "But you shouldn't fight the inevitable. Trust me."

I groaned and cursed him under my breath, trying desperately to quell my nausea. Nothing was working, and all the alcohol I'd consumed sure wasn't helping. I could feel myself swaying, causing dizziness to overcome me.

I wasn't able to hold it off much longer. I just kept picturing Denny in that Jeep, getting bashed into that tree. And before I knew it, I was expelling my stomach contents over the railing, the bitter taste of beer burning my throat as it came back up.

"Now we're talkin'," Ace said once I'd finally allowed my stomach to do what it needed to do. I heard him slip off the railing and I could feel his presence looming over me. But he kept himself at a distance.

I heaved until there was nothing left. When I was finished, I remained leaning over the railing, spitting and taking gasping breaths.

I flinched when I felt Ace lay a hand on my back. "Dude, that was gross," he commented softly.

I moaned. "Fuck you."

Ace laughed lightly as he grabbed my arm and turned me around. I kept my back against the railing. It was the only thing keeping me standing.

I was still breathing heavily, and my eyes were still squeezed shut, but I could feel Ace in front of me.

"Pull yourself together, Eyeball. You're alright." He almost sounded annoyed.

I opened my eyes hesitantly as my breaths became steadier. I swallowed a few times before meeting Ace's eyes.

"You good?" he asked, arms folded across his chest.

"Yeah," I croaked, because I knew that's what Ace needed to hear. I took a step away from the railing as if to prove my point.

Unevenly, I started back inside, headed for the couch, but Ace grabbed my arm.

"You look beat," he told me. "You should sleep." I think he was trying to be gentle, but Ace isn't used to that sort of thing. He practically dragged me into the spare bedroom and pushed me onto the cot.

I didn't protest. I was exhausted. "Save some beer for me," I mumbled, letting my eyes close. I was going to need it when I woke up.

Ace laughed. "I will." Then he flipped off the light and closed the door behind him.

I didn't even bother to get under the covers. I was out like a light in seconds.


	20. Chapter 20

I'd like to tell you that Denny's death was a wake-up call for me. That I realized life is precious. That I wasted no time in turning my life around. But that's not what happened. I didn't turn my life around. Not at first, anyway.

No, I went in the complete opposite direction.

Don't get me wrong, I managed to do what I'd set out to do. I _did_ graduate high school.

I have Charlie Hogan to thank for that. He's the one who got my ass out of bed. He's the one who sobered me up enough to take my final exams.

And I passed them. Barely. Bare minimum.

I think the teachers pitied me. Let me squeak by, even if maybe I didn't get the scores. Bates might've been behind all that. It didn't take a genius to see I was well on my way to spiraling out of control.

Bates didn't make me take the final for his class. I aced the one I took the day Denny died, and he said that was more than enough for him. _Just focus on the rest of your exams_ , he said. _I want to see you walkin_ _'_ _that stage at graduation._

But I didn't walk.

Charlie begged me to come - told me I'd regret it if I missed it. But I didn't listen. Nothing sounded less appealing than getting dressed in a black gown and a square hat, listening to a boring-ass speech from the second-in-line valedictorian. Because that honor was supposed to go to Denny.

It didn't seem right for me to be there if Denny wasn't. He was the reason I was getting a diploma in the first place.

Besides, I knew that words would be spoken about Denny at that ceremony. And I didn't think I could handle it. It was bad enough that I saw his face every time I closed my eyes.

I didn't go to his funeral either. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew that practically the entire town would be there. His family would be there. His closest friends would be there - save only Clyde Walker. I couldn't go, knowing my presence would be judged. And it would have been. The likes of me wouldn't be welcome at a funeral for the likes of him.

It was a closed casket, anyway. So what did it matter if I went to the funeral? I could just as easily pay my respects at sundown.

And that's what I did.

When the sun started to set, I went and visited Denny's grave. Alone.

I didn't want anyone there with me. I just wanted it to be me and him… and the bottle of booze I'd brought along.

I took a seat in front of his grave, staring at his tombstone - at the dates. August 14th, 1940 - April 26, 1959.

Eighteen years wasn't long enough. Not for someone who had so much good to bring to the table.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," I heard myself whispering. "You aren't supposed to be gone."

I felt a little silly, sitting there, talking to a tombstone. But no one was around to hear me, so I didn't let it bother me much.

I told Denny about Clyde, how he was still comatose, but that people were optimistic about his recovery. I told him how much of an impact his death had on the town, how much of an impact it had on me. I told him about acing Bates' test and how grateful I was that we had gotten to know each other. I told him that I was scared because I didn't know what to do from here.

Because I may not have known it at the time, but I know it now. Denny had been my safety net.

I sat there a long time, watching the sun set beyond the horizon, drinking the booze I brought, trying to numb myself. It was peaceful, but the darker it got, the more eerie it felt. And when I started to feel like someone was watching me, that's when I decided to head home.

"I'll be back," I promised him before leaving.

But I didn't return for a long time.

In the weeks that followed graduation, I barely left Ace's place. All I did was drink and drink, and every once in a while I'd smoke a joint. Ace had started dealing again - never could break that damn habit - so he always had some bash on hand.

I was a mess, and I knew it, but I didn't have the strength to care.

One morning, in early June, Christopher showed up on Ace's doorstep. Ace was at work so I had the house to myself. I swung the screen door open clumsily, already four beers in before 11:00.

"What're you doin' here?" I asked, trying to separate my words the best I could. I was underwhelmed by the sight of Christopher. I hadn't given him any thought in ages, and I was too tired to start now.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, ignoring the question. His voice was riddled with disappointment and annoyance. "At this hour?"

"So what if am?" I didn't like the tone he was using with me, like he was superior or something. I noticed he was holding an envelope. "What's that?"

"Your diploma. It came in the mail yesterday," he answered, holding it out to me. "Thought I'd bring it by."

I took it from him.

"Didn't think you'd be here," Chris added. "Thought you'd be at work or somethin'." He looked me up and down, probably noting my unshaven face and dirty clothes. "But by the looks of it, you don't even have a job, do you?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my free hand. Who did Chris think he was, lecturing me like that? "Fuck you, dude."

"No, fuck you," Chris said, his voice cracking. "I was so proud of you when that diploma came in the mail, you know that? But apparently it means shit to you. What do you do all day, huh? Sit around, getting plastered and mooching off of Merrill? God, you're fuckin' pathetic." He was practically spitting with disgust.

And I could feel myself getting angry - something I hadn't felt in a long time. Hell, I hadn't felt _anything_ in a long time. I wanted to hit something, and if I wasn't careful it was going to be Christopher.

So instead of defending myself, instead of telling him what had been going on with me these past couple of months, I forced myself to believe that I was angry with him - that I didn't want anything to do with him.

And I shut the door in his face.

I continued down that path - the one I'd been on before I met Denny: getting plastered with the gang the entire livelong day, destructing property around town because it felt _good_ , boosting cars because why the hell not? It was easy, it wasn't _real_.

But then a kid, by the name of Ray Brower, went missing.

And just like that, I was pulled back into reality.


	21. Chapter 21

They say tragedy strikes in threes.

Ace and I were at Barrels when we heard the news. It was a Wednesday around 6:00 and we'd gone for a drink after he'd gotten back from work.

We were sitting side-by-side at the bar. I was finishing my third beer when Ace grabbed my arm.

"What?" I asked startled.

Ace was staring at the TV above the bartender's head. "Look," he breathed.

I glanced at the screen. It was the six o'clock news and there was a picture of a kid - sort of chubby and young, he looked about Christopher's age. Above the photo, in big, bold letters was the word 'MISSING.' And on the screen next to the photo was some information that I wasn't bothered to read.

At first, I didn't really understand Ace's reaction to this. "So what?" I said. "A kid is missing. What's the big deal?"

"That's Dottie's son," Ace said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

My stomach dropped. "Are you serious?" Suddenly I was very interested in the text beside the photo.

**NAME** : RAYMOND BROWER

**MISSING SINCE:** TUESDAY AFTERNOON

**AGE:** 12

**HEIGHT:** 5' 3"

**WEIGHT:** 116

**HAIR:** BROWN

**EYES:** BLUE

**LAST SEEN WEARING:** GREEN PLAID SHIRT, JEANS

There was a number to call if anyone had seen or heard anything about his whereabouts. Ace pulled a pen out of his pocket and scribbled the number down on a napkin.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"We're going to look for him," he told me firmly, standing up. He threw some bills on the table to cover our drinks. "Let's go."

I followed him out of the bar without hesitation.

* * *

Ace led the way to Dottie's house, explaining he'd been there before to pick up some jam for his gran.

"This is fucking perfect," he muttered, slowing his pace a little so I could catch up. "Kids don't just go missing around here."

"Maybe he ran away," I suggested softly.

"No, he wouldn't do that," Ace snapped.

I stopped walking, startled at how defensive Ace was being. "Ace, how well do you even know this kid?"

"Better than you think."

I let out an exasperated sigh. There he was, being all cryptic again. "What the hell does that mean? Look, I know he's Dottie's kid, but why are you so worked up about this?"

Ace kept walking. "I'm not worked up," he said through gritted teeth. "I just want to find him. For Dottie."

I rolled my eyes after him. He was clearly not telling me something. _What else is new?_ I thought. I heaved a sigh and followed him the rest of the way to Dottie's house.

* * *

Dottie was a frantic and worried mess, understandably. She was happy to see us, though.

She had set up headquarters in her living room, mapping out places where people were looking for Ray. Her husband and a bunch of neighbors were already out looking for him when we arrived.

"Thank you for coming," she said, hugging Ace first and then me. "I tried calling you last night, but nobody picked up. I was hoping you'd help look. We've had a search party going non-stop since eight o'clock last night."

"Sorry, we were out last night," I told her. We'd been frequenting the strip club more regularly these days.

"Tell us what you know," Ace demanded. He seemed so focused - something I hadn't seen out of him in ages.

Dottie had us sit down on the couch so she could go over everything she knew. She looked exhausted and her voice shook when she spoke, but she was able to get the story out.

Apparently, Ray had gone blueberry picking after school on Tuesday. "I was planning on making more jam," Dottie told us. "So I sent him out for more berries." It was around three o'clock when he left, and it was around 6 o'clock that she started to worry.

"I got back from my shift at the nursing home, and he was nowhere to be found," she said. "It usually only takes him an hour to pick the berries we need. So when my husband got home from work, we went out looking for him."

She explained how they looked where Ray normally went to pick berries - down by the train tracks. "It was obvious that he'd been there," she said. "Our favorite bushes were picked clean. But he was nowhere in sight."

Dottie sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief she was holding in her lap. "I just want my baby boy back." She looked down at her hands. "We called everyone we knew to help look. We knew we couldn't file a police report until today, but I was hoping it wouldn't come to that."

I cleared my throat and tilted my head at her. "And you don't think that he could've…" I trailed off. I didn't know how to put this delicately. "You don't think he ran away."

"I told you, he wouldn't do that," Ace said firmly.

"He's right," Dottie told me. "Ray is happy here. Much happier than he was in Houston. He's made some really good friends. And he isn't bullied as much as he was down there."

"Damn straight," I heard Ace mumble under his breath.

Dottie smiled sadly at Ace. "A lot of that is thanks to you." She patted his knee affectionately as more tears slipped out of her eyes. She dabbed her eyes again and looked at Ace pleadingly. "There wasn't anything… in his letters…?" she asked, seemingly searching for information. "Any bit helps."

My brow furrowed in confusion. I had no idea what she was talking about. _What letters?_ I tilted my head at Ace.

"No. There was nothing," he answered, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Dottie blew her nose. "Didn't hurt to ask, right?" she said weakly.

Ace bit down on his lip and then cleared his throat gruffly. "We're going to find him, Dottie." He was riding on false assurances, and he knew it. But it was all he had to offer. He stood up, and I followed his lead. "Just tell us where to look."

* * *

Dottie sent us down by the riverbank, where we could meet up with some of the other searchers. It wasn't that far away, but it hadn't been searched thoroughly since it wasn't where Ray would typically go to pick berries. Dottie said the police were doing a once-over on all the places they'd already searched.

On the way to the riverbank, I couldn't help but ask Ace about the letters. I cleared my throat. "So…"

Ace sighed, knowing what I was about to ask him.

"I got forced into it, okay?" he said, his voice holding the same hostility it always did.

"And what is 'it', exactly?" I asked.

Ace stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. "I swear to god, Eyeball, if you tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, I'll end you."

"Yeah, yeah." I was very well-accustomed to death threats from Ace by now. "Spill."

Ace let out a deep breath. "The kid's been writing me letters," he told me.

I don't know what I was expecting, but that wasn't it.

"Started off as a school project for him," Ace continued. "Somethin' about learnin' about the postal service or some shit."

I raised my eyebrows.

"I was visitin' Gran at the nursing home one day, and Ray was there. It was right after they'd moved here. And he was lookin' for someone to write to."

I laughed. "And he asked you?" Man, the kid had balls if that was the case. Most 12-year-olds ran in the opposite direction after taking one look at Ace.

But Ace shook his head. "He asked Gran. I think it was Dottie's idea. She knew Gran loved shit like that. She loved kids and she loved gettin' mail."

"So how did you get roped into it?"

"Well, Gran threw me under the bus. Claimed her arthritis and eyesight were getting too bad to read and write. Which was total horseshit by the way." Ace pulled out a cigarette and lit up. "Anyway she volunteered me, with the damn kid standing right there, so I couldn't say no."

I let out a huff of air, knowingly. It wasn't that he couldn't say no to the kid, he couldn't say no to his gran. "So… he writes you a letter and you write back?"

"Yeah," he said and shrugged his shoulders. "He writes me once a week."

"Still?" I asked. "Even though school is over?"

Ace snorted softly. "Yeah."

"And you still write back?"

Ace nodded. "It would've made Gran happy," he said simply.

I chuckled under my breath. "You have a fucking _pen-pal_ , man."

Ace didn't have a tough-guy response to that. So instead, he took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out in my face. Then he continued to walk.

This whole idea of Ace writing letters to a 12-year-kid was pretty hilarious to me. Less hilarious now that the kid was missing. "What do you even write to him about?" I asked him, seriously curious.

Ace just shrugged. "I dunno, man. Stuff. Can we drop this now?" I could hear the desperation in his voice, and I knew that this whole thing had been hard for him to admit. And it dawned on me that maybe Ace had enjoyed writing to Ray. That maybe he even liked the kid.

"Yeah," I said, softly, glancing ahead at the river in the distance. "It's dropped."

"Good," Ace said. "And Eyeball?"

"Hmm?"

"Not a word to the gang," he threatened. "Not one fuckin' word."


	22. Chapter 22

We searched well into the night, only stopping when we were too hungry and exhausted to continue.

We'd met up with two older men who'd also been assigned to the riverbank by Dottie. They were construction workers. Nice guys who were quick to take the lead - something I was grateful for because I had no idea how to go about a search.

One was named Don, short, broad-shouldered, and bald, but had light brown scruff on his face. The other was Stan, tall with a solid build, a full, dark brown head of hair with a clean-shaven face. He sort of looked like an older version of me - just a little bit taller and definitely more cut.

We worked methodically. It was slow going as we walked alongside the river, through the overgrown brush, making sure we covered all of the ground, desperately searching for any sign of a young boy in a plaid green shirt and blue jeans.

Darkness didn't slow us down. We continued to search, using the flashlights Dottie had given us. The time ticked by slowly, and deep down we knew the kid wasn't even there. It felt like wasted time, but time we needed to waste.

Even if it was just to be sure.

It was around 2:00am when Don and Stan whistled for us. We'd broken apart a little, each searching our own small plot of land. "Time to call it a night, boys," Stan said decidedly when we approached them. He shined the flashlight in our faces. "It's gettin' late, and you guys have to be starvin'."

That was true. My stomach was growling something awful and I was fading fast. I glanced at Ace and he shrugged. If it weren't for us, he probably would have kept going all night long.

"We'll drive you back into town," Don said. "We'll stop in at the Blue Point Diner and get some food in you. Our treat."

* * *

Turns out we weren't the only searchers who'd decided to stop by the Blue Point Diner for some grub. There were some other folks there too - most of them men - who'd been out searching all night.

They waved us over when we walked in, and we ate and talked, sharing stories of what we'd found, or rather, what we hadn't found.

Ace was sitting silently beside me. Didn't contribute to the conversation once. Barely picked at his food. Just sat there, stoically, quietly brooding as he pushed his potatoes around with his fork.

There was a man there who tried to talk to us, but seeing as Ace was in no mood for conversation, I was the one who got stuck doing all the talking. His name was Perry Liken and he was a very talkative, but friendly, guy. He asked how we knew the Browers, how old we were, what we did for a living…

And when he found out I was unemployed, he offered me a job.

I was floored. Ace even perked up beside me when he ran it by me.

Turns out the guy worked for the postal service. Said they needed more workers. Said workers with a high school diploma were in high demand.

I wouldn't be doing much - just manual labor: organizing mail, collapsing boxes, stamping envelopes… It sound like some tedious and boring work.

He even admitted the pay wouldn't be very substantial. But it would be something. Enough to quit "mooching off of Ace" as Chris had put it. I would've been an idiot to say no.

So we shook hands and he told me he'd see me on Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. That's when I'd start.

A job fell right into my lap.

And even though the night had been a wasted effort of searching for the Brower kid, I couldn't help but smile to myself.

I deserved a break every once in a while.

* * *

It was Friday afternoon - a little before noon - and Ace and I were back at Barrels. We'd searched all day yesterday, and we were spent.

"They should just give up," Ace sighed beside me. "We ain't ever gonna find him. He's gone."

He was probably looking for me to convince him otherwise. To tell him that wasn't true, that we didn't know that for sure.

But I did know that for sure. I could feel it in my gut. The kid was dead. And it would take a miracle to find him.

So I just took a swig of my scotch and nodded. I'd chosen scotch over beer this time - I wanted to be drunk, completely out of it, and fast. I was so tired, so _over_ feeling hurt. And I knew Ace was too.

We sat there silently, just drinking, and drinking, and drinking. Like it would solve all of our problems. Even though we knew it wouldn't.

Finally, I'd had enough, and Ace had lit up a cigarette, so I knew he was done too. "Let's go home," I told him as I stood up. "I need to crash, and so do you."

Ace nodded in agreement, and we made our way, unevenly, to the door.

* * *

As we were coming out of the bar, we ran into none other than Christopher and Gordie Lachance. They were walking down Main Street, sleeping bags and backpacks over their shoulders. It looked like they were going to camp out that night. What I wouldn't give for life to be that simple again.

"Hey girls, where you goin'?" I asked, not actually the least bit curious, just as Ace grabbed the ball cap off of Lachance's head.

I smiled slightly to myself. The fact that Ace still had enough energy to bully a kid or two gave me the tiniest shred of hope. He was still capable of blowing off steam.

I knew he'd just hold it out of Gordie's grasp for a while, just for kicks. But geez, the kid seemed really upset about it.

"C'mon man, my brother gave me that!"

My stomach dropped. I knew Ace didn't know Gordie from Adam, so he didn't know Denny was his brother. If he did, he may not of gone so far. But who knows, he was plastered out of his mind. "Well now you're givin' it to me," he said smugly.

"Give it to me!" Gordie yelled, reaching for it as Ace continued to jerk it away from him. "C'mon man, that's mine!" I watched in awe. I couldn't stop staring at Gordie. He looked like a Denny mini-me. It made my heart sink and I felt sick - the scotch in my stomach threatening to make a reappearance.

I was about to step in and tell Ace to lay off, when Christopher decided to open his big mouth.

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" He was staring at Ace with so much hatred. And even though I was still pissed at Chris, still so _mad_ at what he'd said to me, I couldn't help but inwardly groan.

_You fucking idiot_. He didn't know how messed up Ace was right now or what he was capable of when he got this way.

Ace stopped the keep away game, threw his cigarette to the ground and handed me the cap, his complete focus on Chris now. He knew what had been going on between us, and I think he hated Chris more than I did. I believe that to my core. Mainly because I didn't hate Chris. I was just mad at him. "Your brother isn't very polite, Eyeball."

I put the cap on my head, backwards, forgetting for the moment that it was Lachance's. All my focus, my worry, was on my kid brother. "Now Christopher, I know you didn't mean to insult my friend." My tone was timid. I was trying to speak to him through the lines. _Apologize and beat it, kid. Trust me._

Ace stepped closer to Chris, and I saw him gulp. But he wasn't going to back down. He was too stubborn for that. "I know he didn't mean to insult me," Ace said, his words slurring together. "That's why I'm going to give him the opportunity of taking it back."

He paused briefly, watching Chris.

But Chris just looked down at his shoes, wordlessly.

Just what Ace wanted. He cupped his hand around Chris's neck and slammed him to the ground. He grabbed his still-smoking cigarette and held it in front of Chris's face.

I heard Chris protest as the smoke hit his eyes. But Ace wasn't going to relent until he took it back. "Take it back, kid," he said over Gordie's pleas to get him to stop.

I knew Ace wouldn't hurt Chris too bad, so I actually allowed myself to smile while all of this was going on. It wasn't like I hadn't tried to warn the kid. But I was relieved when Chris finally put an end to all of it.

"Okay, okay, I take it back," he cried desperately. "I take it back!"

And immediately, Ace flicked the cigarette away from his face, and stood the kid back up. "There, now I feel a whole lot better about this." He looked to Gordie then back to Chris. "How 'bout you?"

They both were silent, looking anywhere but at Ace's face. Gordie looked like he was about to start crying.

"Good," Ace said and patted Gordie on the cheek before he turned on his heel and started walking away.

I was left staring at my little brother and he was staring back, and I could see pure hatred in his eyes. But then he turned his gaze off me, was watching Ace walk away, and he opened his mouth to say something else. Maybe to call him back, I don't know, but whatever he was going to do, it wasn't smart.

"See you later, girls," I said quickly, definitively, before he got the chance. _Know when to bite your tongue, kid._ I hope he knew I was saving his ass. If he provoked Ace again, I don't know how forgiving he would be. I turned on my heel and fell into step behind Ace.

I didn't look back.

It wasn't until we'd rounded the corner that I realized I was still wearing Lachance's ball cap. I stopped in my tracks and pulled it off my head, just staring at it.

"What's with you?" Ace asked when he realized I'd stopped walking.

"We should've given this back to that kid," I said quietly.

Ace snorted. "Why would we do that?"

"He was Lachance's kid brother," I snapped.

I saw the realization hit Ace and he actually looked a little bit remorseful, if only for a brief second. Because not two seconds later, he had his hard face back on. "Damn, I really am an asshole," he said proudly.

"Been tellin' you that my whole life, man," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Because holding that cap in my hands brought back so many memories of Denny that I'd been trying so hard to repress. And despite all the scotch I'd had - despite trying to take the hurt away - I hurt more than I had in a long time.

I heaved a sigh and we continued the walk back to Ace's place in silence.


	23. Chapter 23

When we returned to Ace's place, Vince, Charlie, and Billy were there, kicked back with some beers. Charlie and Billy were going on about how they'd boosted some Dodge and had gone speeding along the road that runs parallel to the Royal River. I guess Jack and Fuzzy were the only two who gave a shit about work. Assuming that's were they were…

"Where've you two been?" Billy asked Ace and I as we flopped down on the couch next to them. "You were completely MIA yesterday."

"We were—" I started to give an honest answer, but Ace cut me off.

"We went on some deals," he interrupted casually, shooting me a threatening glare. Heaven forbid the gang found out he spent all of yesterday searching for a lost boy - a boy he knew and cared about.

But Ace called the shots. He always did. So I kept my trap shut and stared straight ahead at the TV that I hadn't even noticed was on.

The news was still reporting about the Brower kid. I saw Ace swallow thickly and then he stood up and crossed the room to turn off the TV.

"Hey man, we were watchin' that!" Vince exclaimed.

Ace ignored him. He stood with his back to us a couple moments longer. I could see his shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath he took.

"Who's up for some mailbox baseball?" he asked finally, turning around, his signature tough-guy look plastered to his face. "I think it's a perfect day to go deface some property." He grinned, but there was no light behind it. "Who's with me?"

I was exhausted, and I wanted to do nothing more than crash and sleep away the rest of the afternoon, but I wasn't about to say no to Ace. Especially not when he needed to blow off steam. Besides, I loved me some mailbox baseball.

Charlie and Billy agreed to come too, but Vince backed out. "I should probably clock-in at work," he griped. "Boss might fire me." He was kidding, of course. Vince's pop owned a gas station and Vince worked for him. He did the bare minimum for Mr. Desjardins to allow him to keep living under his roof.

Ace gathered up some bats, some beers, and we were off.

* * *

"Hold still, will you?" I nagged Billy as I did my best to steady my hand. I was tattooing COBRAS onto his arm, but he was moving so much that I was doing a piss-poor job. "What's with you and this Connie Palermo chick?"

We were all hanging out behind Ace's place, enjoying some smokes, listening to KLAM radio, doing nothing of great importance. Just the way I liked it.

"I've been seeing her for a month now and all she'll do is let me feel her tits."

"She's a Catholic, man," Ace chimed in coolly. "They're all like that. If you want to get laid, you gotta get yourself a Protestant - A Jew's good."

I rolled my eyes. Just because Brandy was a Protestant and would give Ace anything he wanted, it didn't mean they were all like that. But Ace swore by it. After striking out so many times, he hardly ever went after a Catholic anymore.

Billy nodded, but I knew he still had his hopes set on Connie. She was one helluva girl.

Just then the radio broke in: _A KLAM news break. We interrupt to bring you an update on the search for the missing twelve year old, Ray Brower. The police have expanded their efforts to include Mutton, Durham and the outlying areas. Police indicated_ _…_

I glanced at Ace who was overly focused on wiping off a stolen carburetor, clearly trying to block out any news about the kid.

"They should just give up," I said, repeating Ace's words from earlier, hoping that would put a quick stop to any potential conversation about the boy. "They ain't ever gonna find him."

"Not where they're lookin'," Charlie said, as if he knew some big secret. So much for my efforts.

"Hey, Eyeball's right, Charlie," Billy said, whipping his head to face Hogan, his arm whipping with it. "They ain't ever gonna find him."

"Would you hold still?" I griped again, pulling Billy's arm back in place. "You're making me fuck up the snake part."

Then goddamn Vince had to speak up. "I'll tell you how they're gonna find him," he said. "Ten years from now, some hunter's gonna go in the woods to take a leak and wind up pissin' on his bones."

I saw Ace pale at the thought, but he kept on wiping down that carburetor.

"I bet you a thousand dollars they find him before that!" Charlie challenged.

"I bet you two thousand dollars they don't!" I returned. _For cryin_ _'_ _out loud, just shut up, Charlie._

"Well, asshole—"

Billy groaned, glaring over his shoulder at Charlie. "What's the big deal? _Who cares?_ " Those two had been acting weird all day.

Ace knew how to end it. "Will you two just shut the fuck up? If either one of you assholes had two thousand dollars, I'd kill you both."

* * *

The following morning, Billy and I went fishing off of the Brownsville bridge.

I didn't mind. Ace was driving me crazy, refusing to tell anyone in the gang about his connections to Ray while it was practically tearing him apart. He'd been up all night - sick - unable to hold his liquor, and when he told me to shove off, I didn't hesitate to oblige.

So I left him, still passed out beside the toilet, under the watchful eye of Charlie. And I went fishing.

* * *

"Hey Eyeball, you know that Brower kid?"

Billy's voice broke into my thoughts. We'd been fishing for almost two hours, barely saying a word to each other. We hadn't caught anything, but it was relaxing. We were drinking beers and smoking doobies. I felt better than I had in weeks - bash will do that for you. I felt relaxed, lucid. I didn't want the high to end. I tensed up right away when Billy mentioned Ray, though.

"What about him?" I asked.

"I'd like to tell you something about him, but you gotta swear on your mother's good name that you ain't gonna tell anybody."

I shrugged. "I swear," I said. No skin off my teeth if I tarnished my mother's so-called "good name." Besides, I was mighty curious about what Billy could know.

Billy let out a deep breath. "Charlie and I found him yesterday," he said.

I almost dropped my fishing rod. "You what?"

Billy nodded. "Yeah," he said slowly. "After we boosted that Dodge, we stopped off the back Harlow Road to take a leak… and there he was. Train must've hit him…"

"Well, what'd you do?" I asked.

"What do you mean, what'd we do? We left him there." Billy said. "We'd just boosted a car for Christ's sake."

"So you didn't call the cops or nothin'?"

"No way. They would've wanted to know how we got back there."

I was barely even listening. I was reeling in my line.

"What are you doing?" Billy asked.

I bent down to pick up my fishing gear. I slung the backpack over my shoulder and stuffed my rod under my arm. "We gotta tell Ace."

 


	24. Chapter 24

Ace's car was parked out front, but he and Charlie were nowhere in sight when we returned.

The rest of the gang was at his place though. Vince's car was parked behind Ace's. Mudgett was taking a shower and the rest were mooching off his stash of beer.

"Catch anything?" Vince asked when we stepped in the door.

"We didn't stay out there long enough to catch anything," Billy griped, glaring at me. "Is Ace around?"

"Nah, he's out shootin' pool with Hogan," Fuzzy answered, taking a big swig of beer. "I think he was gettin' cabin fever after being hauled up in the fuckin' bathroom all night."

Vince laughed. "I always knew Merrill wouldn't be able to hold his liquor."

I wanted to knock their heads together, but instead I just decided to leave. I needed to go find Ace on my own, so I could let him down gently about Brower.

I slipped out the door without the rest of the guys noticing.

* * *

It was a nice day. Sort of breezy and cool, the sun was out, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Whenever I'm high, I tend to appreciate nature more. Although I could feel the effects starting to wear-off. I needed to get my hands on some more bash if we were going to go looking for this kid again.

I was hoping to convince Ace to just make an anonymous call to the cops. I was smart enough to know that if Ray was all the way off the back Harlow road, that meant he'd been hit, smacked, and maybe even dragged, by a train. And that meant he'd be in real bad shape. I wasn't itching to see a mutilated, dead Ray Brower.

I wasn't even halfway to Barrels when I saw Ace and Charlie walking toward me from the opposite direction. They were walking fast. Charlie was struggling to keep up.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" I asked when we met up.

"Charlie and Billy found Ray," Ace told me promptly, not slowing his step. His voice was flat.

I swallowed, glancing at Hogan. "I know, man, that's what I was coming to tell you." I reached out to grab Ace's arm, bringing him to a halt. "Just hold on a second, Ace."

But he shook his head. "We need to go check it out." He turned to Charlie, his expression hard. "You're gonna take me to him."

Charlie looked like he wanted to protest, but kept his mouth shut.

"Ace, look, maybe we should just give a tip to the cops," I said hopefully, as we continued our walk back to his place.

But Ace shook his head no.

* * *

Charlie hurried inside once we got back, but I held Ace back so I could talk to him.

"Ace…" I tried again. I was still trying to press that anonymous call idea, and Ace knew it.

He let out a deep breath. "I need to see for myself," he said firmly. "I ain't gonna go squawkin' to the cops until I know for sure."

I understood it then. Ace was in denial. I could see it, clear as day, in his eyes. He was still holding onto a tiny shred of hope that Ray was alive. Despite the hard truth from Billy and Charlie. Besides, Ace never liked involving cops in anything if he could help it. And with his criminal record, I guess I couldn't blame him.

I let out a deep breath. "Okay," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "So what's the plan?"

Ace didn't answer me. Instead, he turned and walked inside.

By that time, the rest of the gang had been informed that the Brower kid had, in fact, been found.

"I'm goin' looking for him," Ace announced. "Billy, Charlie, you're comin'. You too, Eyeball. The rest of you can do whatever the hell you want, I don't care."

"We're coming too," Vince said.

Ace didn't even acknowledge that. He just went into the kitchen and grabbed some packs of beer. He shoved them in my arms and told me to put them in the car.

I grimaced, remembering how sick Ace had been the night before from drinking too much. "Ace, maybe you shouldn't…" I said lowly.

"Can it, Eyeball," he growled. "I'm not about to be sober for this."

I understood that too.

_Neither am I._

So I put the beers in the car - one pack in Ace's, the other in Vince's. Then I went and found myself another joint.

* * *

We were all outside. Ace was finishing loading up his car with some fishing gear. Billy and Charlie were trying to back out of going. They were still paranoid about boosting that Dodge.

"Look Ace, maybe me an' Charlie shouldn't go," Billy said.

"Yeah, maybe you can go without us," Charlie agreed, scratching the top of his head.

Ace turned around to face them. He leaned up against the car and stared them down. I knew they wouldn't get out of going - Ace needed them to take him to Ray. "You guys are acting like my grandmother having a conniption fit," he said.

I flinched when Ace mentioned his gran - he'd barely spoken about her since her death - and now he was bringing her up in bad taste. It really clued me in to how messed up Ace was right then.

"I don't see your problem," he continued. "We go up with a bunch of fishing gear, and if a cop asks us why we're there— 'we're just here to take a couple steelhead out of the river… and look what we found.'"

Ace was letting a toothpick dangle between his teeth. He looked so casual - so _calm_. That is until Vince spoke up.

"Yeah! Come on, man! We're gonna be famous," he said. "We're gonna be on every radio and TV show in the country."

If looks could kill, Vince would be a dead man. A flash of anger lit up in Ace's eyes. I knew he'd never let that happen - he'd never let the gang make a spectacle out of Ray's death.

Charlie considered what Vince said, but then shook his head. "I still don't think we should go."

"Okay," Ace said, bobbing his head up and down. "Okay. You've stated your position clearly, now I'm gonna state mine: Get in the fucking car. Now!"

That did it. Billy and Charlie obliged and got in the car with Ace. Since the fishing gear was taking up space in the back of his car, I chose to ride shotgun with Vince. Fuzzy and Mudgett took the back.

* * *

I lit up my joint once we were on the road.

I don't remember much of that car ride to the back Harlow road, except for some snippets here and there. A game of chicken, running a truck off the road, knocking back a few beers… all standard happenings of a Cobra car ride.

But it didn't feel standard. We weren't on our way to a strip club, or a party, or a some concert… we were on our way to see a dead kid. And no matter how hard I tried to join in on the "fun" that my car seemed to be having, I couldn't shake the sick feeling in my gut.

* * *

"You see that clearing?" Billy asked Ace, pointing to a gap in the tree line along the tracks. "That's where he is… down the hill near the river."

We'd made it. We parked our cars down where the road meets the woods. We were out of the car now, standing frozen on the spot. The realization had finally hit all of us. This wasn't fun and games. This was life and death.

The wind had picked up, some clouds had come in, and it felt utterly eerie standing there in the woods.

My joint was long gone, but now I was smoking a good old-fashioned cigarette, desperate to calm my nerves.

"I don't want to see the kid again," Charlie said under his breath to Billy.

"I know, me either."

Ace pretended not to hear them. "Eyeball, listen," he said, pulling me to the side so only I could hear. "If… If Ray is there… you and me… we're gonna take him back to Dottie. You understand me?" He swallowed hard. "She just wants her son home."

I took a long drag on my cigarette and nodded vaguely, my stomach twisting nervously. I looked Ace up and down. He still had that calm facade, but I wasn't buying it. I knew he was scared shit-less. "Ace, you can wait here," I offered, even though I was underwhelmed at the thought of approaching that clearing on my own. "I'll go check it out."

But Ace shook his head. "I told you, I have to see for myself," he said firmly. "C'mon."

He pushed me in the direction of the clearing. It was just the two of us. The rest of the gang still hadn't budged.

* * *

I saw the boy almost instantly. His legs were in a tangled mess, peeking out from behind some brush, limp and lifeless, the shoes knocked off his feet. He was wearing a green, plaid shirt. It was Ray, no doubt.

I forced myself to swallow back bile.

I wanted to look at Ace - see if he was okay. But my attention was diverted.

Because the body wasn't all we saw.

Beyond the body was something we hadn't accounted for.

"What the fuck do you know about this?" Ace asked, his voice hollow.

"Son of a bitch," I breathed. I couldn't believe it. I felt angry, scared, frustrated, and confused all at once. "My little brother."

Christopher, and three of his friends - one being Gordie Lachance - had gotten to the body first.

_Shit._


	25. Chapter 25

This couldn't be happening.

Ace started down the hill and I followed, staring questioningly at my little brother. What the hell was he doing here, anyway?

"You wasn't planning on taking the body from us, was you, boys?" Ace asked, squaring his shoulders to face Chris. He was standing tall, his eyes trained on my brother.

Chris had one boy on either side of him. One I recognized as Billy's chubby kid brother, Vern. The other one I wasn't as familiar with. Duchamp, I think his name was. Lachance wasn't in my line of vision, I was concerned with Christopher only.

"You get away, man," Chris said, planting his feet in the ground. "We found him. We got dibs."

Ace huffed beside me. "We better start running, Eyeball. They got dibs."

I laughed. It was sort of maniacal and dry - but I was high, and somehow laughing seemed appropriate. I was in that giddy, vertiginous stage, I think.

"We earned him, man. You guys came in a car," Chris said, his fists clenching. "That's not fair. He's ours."

"That's not fair, he's ours," I repeated mockingly. "Well, not anymore." This was so stupid. Ace at least had business being there. Chris and his friends didn't. I didn't care if they'd hiked all this way to get to him. Ace deserved to take the body. He had to bring Ray back to Dottie. Chris and them were probably hoping to get on TV or something, same as Vince.

"There's four of us. Eyeball. You just make your move." That was Duchamp, looking all smug and superior. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Oh, we will, don't you worry," Ace assured him.

As if on cue, the rest of our gang appeared behind us at that moment, and I saw the faces of Vern and Duchamp drop. Chris, however, remained stoic.

"Vern, you little son of a whore!" I heard Charlie's voice behind me. "You was under the porch!"

"No! I swear! It wasn't me!" Vern said frantically, shaking his hands out in front of him and backing away slowly.

"You little keyhole-peeping bung." Billy started undoing his belt as he made to run after Vern. "I ought to beat the living shit out of you."

Vern bolted, right into the woods, and Ace held an arm out to keep Billy from going after him. It wasn't Vern he cared about.

I was very aware of Ray's body, about five feet away. And I knew Ace was too. I didn't know how he was holding it together.

"You guys have two choices," Ace said slowly, talking directly to Chris. "You either leave quietly, and we take the body… or you stay and we beat the shit out of you… and we take the body."

"Besides, me and Billy found him first," Charlie added, as if that mattered.

"Yeah, Vern told us how you found him," Duchamp mocked. "Oh Billy! I wish we never boosted that car! Oh Billy, I think I just turned my Fruit of the Looms into a fudge factory." That kid had balls.

"That's it. Your ass is grass," Charlie said, pointing at Duchamp. He started to go after him, but once again, Ace held out an arm.

"Hold it," he said, focusing his attention on Chris again, staring him down . "Okay, Chambers, you little faggot. This is your last chance. What do you say, kid?"

Chris was too stubborn to back down. We locked eyes for a second before he turned his gaze back on Ace. "Why don't you go home and fuck your mother some more?" he retorted softly, not knowing how much of a nerve that would strike with Ace.

And that's when I knew he was in real trouble. I shook my head in disbelief that he would even dare say something like that. It was like he was trying to get himself killed.

There was a quiet pause as we all stared at Ace for his reaction. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his switchblade. He flicked it up, pointing it at Chris with a trembling hand. "You're dead."

Once that knife came out, I was pulled from my high almost instantly. I was suddenly very alert, my guard was up.

"Come on, Chris. Let's just split," I heard Duchamp whisper as Ace took a couple of steps forward.

But Chris shook his head. "They're not taking him," he said, his voice shaky but his stance firm.

"Man, this is crazy. He's got a knife!" Duchamp didn't hang around any longer. He bolted into the woods after Vern.

Ace was dangerously close to Christopher now, the knife still out in front of him. I knew he was seeing red, and the panic in my gut was overwhelming when I realized that he wasn't going to show Chris any mercy.

"Ace, come on, man," I tried, but I knew words weren't going to stop him. I was going to have to tackle him - or something - to physically get him away from Christopher. I took a step closer, ready to grab him.

"You're gonna have to kill me, Ace," Chris whispered.

"No problem." Ace reached behind Chris's neck and pulled him closer, the knife at his throat when—

BANG.

A gunshot rang out through the woods and all of us stumbled backwards.

Gordie Lachance was standing with .45 revolver in his hands - my _pop_ _'_ _s_.45 revolver - the gun pointed at the sky. He brought it down slowly, holding it in both hands, aiming it directly at Ace. He stepped closer to Christopher so they were side-by-side.

"You're not taking him. Nobody's taking him," he said, his voice low and firm.

Ace's eyes narrowed. "Come on, kid, just give me the gun before you take your foot off," he said. "You ain't got the sack to shoot a woodchuck." He took a confident step forward.

"Don't move, Ace," Gordie warned, raising the gun slightly so it was pointed right at Ace's chest. "I'll kill you, I swear to God." His voice kept that steady, low tone.

"Come on, Lachance, give me the gun," Ace tried again. "You must have at least some of your brother's good sense."

Gordie breathed deeply at the mention of his brother. My heart felt like ice.

"Suck my fat one you cheap, dime-store hood," Gordie said, never letting the gun drop, never letting his hands shake. It was amazing to me how Gordie sounded so threatening. He was 90 pounds and five-foot-nothing, but he spoke with such conviction that I knew Ace was floored.

"What are you gonna do, shoot us all?"

"No, Ace. Just you."

Ace swallowed, squinting his eyes at Gordie, sizing him up. Then he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and I gave him a slight shrug, my heart still thumping rapidly in my chest. I just wanted to split. _We should go._

Ace lifted his knife up and pointed at Chris and Gordie. "We're gonna get you for this." His voice sounded so defeated. It made me feel sick.

"Maybe you will and maybe you won't," Chris said mysteriously. He knew they'd won.

"Oh, we will." Ace nodded toward the railroad tracks. Our cue to leave.

I couldn't bring myself to look at Ray again, but I did meet Chris's eyes. I don't know what I saw in his face as I turned to leave, but it looked a little like curiosity. Like he was wondering what we were doing there as much as we were wondering about them. I held his gaze a little longer before letting out a deep breath and walking back up the hill, following the rest of the gang.

"We're not gonna forget this, if that's what you're thinking," I heard Ace from behind me. "This is big time, baby."

I waited at the top of the clearing for Ace as he turned around and sauntered back up the hill. I saw him eye Ray's body as he came up, his face paled, an absolute forlorn expression on his face.

This really was big time.

* * *

"This is bullshit," Vince griped back at the cars. "I can't believe those little faggots are going to get all the credit for this. We were going to be on TV."

I knew what was going to happen before it did. Because I saw Ace's hands clench into fists. I saw that bulging vein in the side of his head. And I saw him whirl around to face Vince.

Ace punched him right in the face before any of us could put a stop to it. Completely bashed his nose in.

"You're a fuckin' idiot," Ace snarled. "That ain't what this is about."

The entire gang was frozen, including me. Vince had stumbled to the ground, his hand held up to his nose, cupping blood as it fell from his nostrils. "What the hell, Ace?" he hissed. "Fuck, man." He used his free hand to push up off the ground so he could stand. He was pissed, and I was afraid this would turn into a full-fledged fist fight if I didn't step in.

So that's what I did. I stepped in between them, putting a hand on Vince's chest to keep him from coming any closer. I could hear Ace's ragged breaths behind me, fuming. "You guys should go," I said firmly to Vince and the rest. "Billy, Charlie, go with him."

"But… what…?" Charlie head was tilted, fishing for answers.

"I said go!" I barked at him - at all of them. "Now!"

Billy knew not to mess with me when my voice sounded like that. He pushed both Vince and Charlie in the direction of the car. He took the keys so he could drive while Vince dealt with his bloody nose. The rest piled into the backseat. It was a tight squeeze.

They drove away, a bewildered expression plastered to all of their faces.

Nothing was spoken until they were gone.

And then: "I need to get out of here," Ace said from behind me.

I heard him fumbling with his keys, trying to unlock the driver's door. I turned to look at him. He was breathing heavy, his entire frame was shaking, and tears were threatening to spill out of his eyes. He was drunk, upset, overwhelmed… he was in no condition to drive. Technically, I wasn't either, having smoked a joint not thirty minutes ago… but I was undoubtedly in more control than Ace was.

I grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face me. "Ace, give me the keys," I demanded, holding my hand out.

But he shook his head, opening his mouth to protest.

I didn't have time for this. I wanted to get out of there too. Now.

I slammed him hard against the car before he could speak, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "You just pulled a goddamn knife on my kid brother, so you better do what I say before I beat the tar out of you," I threatened.

Ace's eyes were wide, his jaw dropped in surprise.

I'd never threatened him like that before, but I meant it. Nobody pulls a knife on Christopher - not even Ace.

Somewhere in the back of my mind though, I'd already forgiven him. How could I not? He was my best damn friend, and he wasn't right in the head back there. He still wasn't. I knew, because those tears had started to fall from his eyes. But on the surface, I was still raging mad.

Ace remained frozen, his eyes pleading and desperate.

I released my grip on his collar. "Give me the keys," I repeated, not bothering to soften my tone. "And get in the car."

Ace sniffed once, then obeyed. He dropped the keys in my palm and went around to the passenger side, wordlessly. He got in the car and slammed the door shut.

I let out a deep breath before I joined him in the car. I sat there a few moments longer, trying to swallow down my anger. Then I turned the key in the ignition and we booked it out of there without looking back.


	26. Chapter 26

We were on the main road now, Ace staring out at the scenery as it whipped past.

We drove in silence for a while. If I spoke, I was afraid I'd go off on Ace for pulling that knife on Chris. And that was the last thing he needed right now. What he needed was a friend, and I was the only guy around. But I still didn't trust myself to speak.

So instead of talking, my mind wandered to Denny. Seeing that boy had been harder than I thought. He had looked so still, so vacant. It was something that would give me nightmares, that much I knew. And I couldn't help but think of Denny, how he'd had a similar fate.

I was also thinking about Christopher. God, how I wished things were right between us. I wished with all my might that I could be more like Denny - that I could be a big brother Chris could look up to, be proud of…

It got me thinking about the last time I saw Denny at that bar. How I'd poured my heart out to him about Christopher, asked for his advice, because there was no doubt in my mind that I could count on Denny. I remembered he told me to do something to make Chris listen. But what did that mean? What was I supposed to do? I remembered that Denny had to leave before I could ask him what he meant. He'd promised me we weren't finished talking about it…

It was the only promise he ever broke.

"Eyeball?" Ace's low voice broke into my thoughts.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry, you know."

I swallowed hard, glancing at Ace out of the corner of my eye. He had never uttered an apology in all of his life, not on his own behalf anyway.

I nodded once. I knew he was.

"For everything," Ace added quietly, turning his head so I couldn't see his eyes. "Not just for today."

That really threw me. "What're you talkin' about?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

But Ace just shook his head slightly, dismissing the question. He never was one to elaborate.

* * *

When we arrived at Dottie's house, Ace drew in a deep breath. "What do you think they did?" he asked me. "With Ray?"

I gave him a slight shrug. "You heard Lachance. They weren't gonna take him. They just didn't want us to take him. They didn't know your intentions, Ace."

"Yeah, I know that," he whispered, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. "So you think he's still by the tracks?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I do." Christopher always did the right thing. They wouldn't have taken him.

Ace let out a wavering sigh, looking reluctantly at the house. "Okay," he said. He pushed the car door open. "Wait here."

"You don't want me to come with you?" I questioned, secretly hopeful.

If Ace had said yes, I would've been there, by his side. I wouldn't have even hesitated. But he shook his head no. "I'll be okay."

He didn't quite convince me.

* * *

I waited outside of the car, my stomach rolling with anxiety. I was out of cigarettes, but I sure was itching for one as the minutes continued to tick by.

Ace had been inside the Browers' house for a long time. Much longer than I thought he'd be.

Gosh, I couldn't imagine being in his shoes. Having to tell the Browers that their son was dead… having to see the reaction on their faces… it sent chills up and down my spine.

It made me think of all the parents that had been hearing news like that lately. The Browers weren't the only ones. Mr. and Mrs. Lachance had to endure the same thing. And the Walkers… I don't know what is worse: hearing that your son is dead, or hearing that he is alive but severely brain damaged. Because that's what Clyde's family was dealing with these days.

It made me wonder how my parents would react if I died. Would they care at all? Would Christopher?

_Don_ _'_ _t go there_ , I thought to myself. _You might not like the answer._

* * *

Ace emerged from Dottie's house around three o'clock. He walked back to the car with his hands jammed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward, his eyes staring down at the ground. I could see tears slipping down his nose and onto his shoes.

I pushed off the car so I was standing upright, Ace's demeanor snapping me into attention. He looked as though he was about to break into a million pieces. He was shaking uncontrollably.

"Hey," I said softly, taking him by the arm.

He shook his head dismissively and reached for the car door with his free arm as a choked sob escaped through his lips. A noise like that coming from Ace made the hair on the back of my neck stick up.

"Ace, hey," I said gently, stepping in between him and the car. I took hold of his other arm and pressed it firmly down at his side, an attempt to get him to stop shaking. "Hey, it's okay. Look at me."

He took in a deep, wavering breath, and met my eyes carefully, tears still spilling down his face.

I kept my hands around his wrists while I encouraged him to calm down. He was an inch away from hysterics, but my hold on him kept him from going there. Ace listened to my every word. I think it was the only thing he was clinging to at that point.

When his breaths steadied and he had regained control of his body, I released my grip on him and had him get back in the car.

"Don't take me home," he said quickly, as I got into the driver's seat. There was a hint of panic in his voice.

I frowned at him. "Why not?" I turned the keys in the ignition.

"If the gang's there… I don't think… I can't—" he broke off, but I understood what he was trying to tell me.

He couldn't deal with the gang right now.

"Okay," I said lightly, an idea forming in my mind. "We'll just drive. That sound okay?"

"Yeah," Ace said, nodding. "Good." He cleared his throat gruffly and swiped away the tears on his cheeks. I think he was humiliated about being subjected to such vulnerability in front of me.

But I didn't mind. It didn't make me think of him any less. If anything, it showed me that Ace Merrill was human after all.


	27. Chapter 27

I couldn't believe that I'd found it.

But here we were, at the base of that hill. The same hill that Denny took me to. The one that over-looked Castle Rock.

It started off as a vague idea at first. I had no notion to where it was - I'd been so out of it that day. I just remembered Denny driving, taking me on twists and turns, all while I kept my eyes closed and tried to keep my nausea at bay.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that we drove up that hill, but I still remember it. That was the day Denny separated me from my father - the day I thought I might actually be worth something. Denny had taken me, when I was at a very low point in my life, and had lifted me up.

And maybe, I thought, just maybe _,_ I could do the same for Ace.

It took some time, and I was almost about to give up on the idea, but I finally found the street that would take us up the hill. The street was called Marvel Rd., a name that I thought was pretty fitting.

"This is it," I breathed. "I can't believe it."

Ace hadn't spoken since we left Dottie's. He had just let me drive, looking out at the scenery going by. It seemed to have calmed him down. His tears had dried up, his breaths had steadied, his frame had stopped shaking.

"Ace, you've got to see this, man," I said, starting up the hill.

"Where the hell are you taking me, Chambers?" he asked hoarsely, but there was a hint of curiosity in his voice too.

"You'll see."

It took us longer to get up that hill than I thought. It was about fifteen minutes of winding and twisting, the road narrowing at dangerous spots. But I kept going. I knew it was worth it.

When we reached the top, I cut the engine and leaned back, waiting for Ace's reaction.

He was in awe, that much I could tell. He rubbed a hand over his face, blinking as he took in the view in front of him. "How'd you find this place?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It's not important." But my damn voice cracked, and Ace was smart enough to figure it out.

He glanced at me. "Lachance?"

I nodded. No point denying it.

"He was a good guy," Ace told me softly. "Could organize a helluva football game too.'

I nodded again. I didn't want to talk about Denny.

But I did want to talk. I wanted to get Ace's mind off of the Browers. So I decided to use Denny as a segue into another conversation - something I had been mighty curious about the past few months.

"You know, you never finished telling me how you learned to play ball so well," I reminded him.

Ace swallowed hard. "I was wondering when you'd bring that up again."

"I'm just curious, is all," I told him lightly. "I mean - why didn't you ever play when you moved here?" He would've been good enough to play for our high school team, no question. Hell, if he'd practiced enough, he probably could've earned a scholarship somewhere.

Ace tensed and I could tell I'd struck a nerve. I was afraid I'd upset him even more.

I sighed. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it—"

But Ace shook his head. "No, it's okay. You deserve to know," he said firmly. "Christ, Eyeball, it's a miracle you can even stand to look at me right now."

"Ace…"  _Don_ _'_ _t be stupid._

"No, I mean it," he continued, his voice insistent. "I don't get why you put up with me. All I do is drag you down and cause you grief. You should've left me in the dust years ago."

"Ace, knock it off," I growled. I didn't like how he was talking - like he was no better than a piece of shit. "You don't drag me down, man. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Ace huffed, disbelieving. "Right."

I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that Ace really believed what he was saying. "Do you need fuckin' proof?" I practically shouted at him. I lifted up my shirt. "See this?" I asked him pointedly. "No welts. No bruises. You know why? Because you give me a place to stay so my pop can't beat me halfway to the curb each night."

I didn't seem to prove my point with that, so I continued. "And my diploma? How do you think I got that, Ace? Because it sure wasn't magic. Do you seriously think I would've stuck with high school if you hadn't convinced me to go through with it? And you think you drag me  _down_ _?_ "

"If you're gonna give someone credit for getting your diploma, credit yourself, Eyeball," Ace grumbled. "Or credit Lachance. Don't act like I had anything to do with it."

"But you did!" I exclaimed, exasperated. "Glory, Ace, do you honestly think this low of yourself?"

Ace shrugged. "If the shoe fits…"

I could've throttled him.

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ace, you're my best friend, man. Plain and simple. You need to hear me when I say that."

Ace continued to shake his head, still not taking my words with much conviction. "How can you say that after I pulled a knife on your kid brother? I know how much you care about him, Eyeball. I'm not blind."

"You didn't know what you were doing," I said quietly. "And I wouldn't have let you hurt him."

I saw some more tears drip from Ace's eyes. "You always have my back," he said, his voice hinting wonderment. Like somehow he didn't deserve it.

"And you always have mine," I retorted firmly. _  
_  
Ace sniffed and turned his head away from me, nodding vaguely. We fell silent after that, both of us staring through the windshield at the valley beneath us.

I felt funny. Sick and tired and oddly calm. What Ace was saying… I never knew he'd felt that way, and it was troubling and it was scary. But at the same time, it was sort of a relief. Ace was opening up to me. After all these years, he was finally letting me in.

"I'm tired of being angry." Ace spoke several moments later and I carefully turned my head back to look at him. "That's why I never played football when I moved here. Just the thought of football made me so mad that I—" he broke off, too worked up to complete his thought.

I swallowed, patiently waiting for him to continue.

"That was the one thing me and my dad had," he told me. "Whenever we got the chance we were running plays and working on tackles. He wanted me to be a star someday."

Ace started cracking his knuckles, one by one, something he always did when he felt uncomfortable.

We were lucky we had that, though," he told me. "It was the one thing that kept us going, you know?" He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "I've never told you this, but my ma was seriously depressed for most of my childhood. She was on medication and everything, but nothing ever seemed to help. She holed up in her room most of the time. And I swear, all that woman did was drink."

I bit down on my lip, saddened, but not surprised, that Ace's family had yet another secret he'd kept from me all these years. "Is that why you never drank?" I asked him. "I mean, until…?"

Ace nodded. "I thought my ma was a coward," he said. "I didn't understand that depression was a disorder, and honestly, I hated her for it. I thought she was weak."

He paused for a moment, swallowing hard, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

"The morning she shot my father, she was getting back from an institution he'd checked her into. She'd had a bad week… overdosed on some meds. We weren't expecting her until later. We were actually supposed to pick her up that afternoon." Ace laughed, sort of maniacally and dry. "She must've busted out. But I guess I'll never know for sure."

Ace took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Anyway, you know the rest," he told me stoically. "She found Dad in bed with another woman and snapped. And after that, I blamed Dad for everything."

I rubbed a tired hand over my face, at a total loss of what to say.

"It's fucked up, Eyeball, because it's really not fair to blame Dad. I mean, the guy had needs - and Ma… she didn't make it easy on him. But I'm still mad at him for leaving me, you know?" He sighed. "I don't think I'll ever forgive him for that. I don't think I'll ever stop being mad."

It made sense to me now - why Ace had never wanted to play football again. It stirred up emotions and memories in him that he was always trying so hard to suppress.

"I guess I should get used to it, though," Ace breathed, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "Everybody leaves me."

I felt like the air was knocked out of me when he said those words. He sounded so broken, so unlike  _Ace_. "That's not true."

Ace let out a shuddering breath, and I could tell he was thinking about Ray, and his gran, and his parents… "Yes it is," he insisted softly, unwilling to look me in the eye.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" I demanded. I turned his chin so he'd look at me. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Trust me, Chambers, one day you're gonna wise up and leave me too." He sounded so sure of himself, so  _sure_  that I was going to leave. Like I was too good for him to bother sticking around.

I looked him dead in the eye, praying he heard me, really  _heard_  me, when I spoke my next two words.

"You're wrong."


	28. Chapter 28

"What are you doing here?"

I was sitting at Ace's kitchen table, eating some cereal and leafing through the newspaper. It was early. Not even seven o'clock yet. I'd barely slept at all, haunted by Ray Brower's face.

Ace had just come out of his bedroom.

I looked up at him questioningly. "What do you mean?" I asked him. It's not like I'd been anywhere else the past four months.

Ace shrugged. "I dunno man, I thought you were gonna go see your kid brother. Try to smooth things over."

I snorted. "Yeah, 'cause that would go over well." I'm sure Ace felt the brunt of those words, knowing that pulling the knife on Chris would make it that much harder to smooth anything over. But I hadn't meant for him to take it that way. I glanced at the clock. "'Sides, he's probably not even back yet. They're on foot, remember?"

Ace bobbed his head up and down. "Right."

I leaned back from the table, letting the chair stand on just two legs. "I guess I have thought about it," I admitted. I was up half the night thinking about Christopher.

"Good. You two need to work it out," Ace said. He walked over to the stove to start some eggs. I knew what that meant. Brandy had stayed the night again. She and Ace were getting more and more serious each day. It brought me some relief though, knowing that Ace hadn't spent the night alone. It was probably a distraction from his grief.

"I just don't think he'll want to hear what I have to say," I sighed. I glanced at Ace, hoping to look him in the eyes, but he was focused on his eggs, so I had to settle for looking at the back of his head. "Why are you pushing this?"

"Because, Eyeball," he said softly, his back still turned to me. "You ain't ever gonna forgive yourself if you don't."

* * *

So here I was, sitting outside of my house on the front stoop, waiting for Christopher to come back. I didn't dare go inside. I had no desire to. Besides, it was oddly quiet - no shouts coming from inside, no plates shattering against the walls… The last thing I wanted to do was disturb the peace.

So I waited, reflecting on all the times I'd sat in this exact spot, when a fight had broken out inside. Sometimes Christopher would join me, and we'd just sit there in silence, grateful that our house was secluded, a good enough distance from neighbors that no one could hear what went on in there.

I guess it didn't really matter. Everyone in town still knew Pop was an abusive drunk, Ma was a cop out, and Dave was felon. My family had no good to its name. And it dawned on me that I hadn't done much to clear it.

I sighed heavily. How did Christopher live here? How had I? Just being back on this stoop made my gut twist, reminding me of the constant fear I was always in. For eighteen years of my life, this is where I'd spent every night. It wasn't until about two years ago that I'd started staying elsewhere, once Ace got his own place and I wised up.

My thoughts were interrupted when I caught sight of Christopher's form on the horizon, sleeping bag slung over his shoulder.

I stood, realizing I hadn't prepared a single thing to say to him. I let my hands hang to my sides, feeling the weight of Denny's baseball cap in my pocket against my thigh. I'd grabbed it earlier this morning, hoping it would give me the strength to make it through this.

Christopher approached me slowly. "What are you doing here?" he asked, frowning, contempt in his voice.

I licked my lips nervously. "I wanted to talk to you."

Chris sighed, eyeing the door, clearly not wanting anything to do with me. "About what?"

"About us."

That floored him, and he looked at me, eyes wide and considering. But then he shook his head firmly and reached for the door.

I grabbed his arm. "Chris, please." I wasn't above begging.

But he pulled his arm out of my grasp. "Eyeball, I don't have time for this," he said, but there was no bite behind his words. "I'm exhausted, man. We can't do this right now."

"If not now, when?" I demanded, desperation flooding my voice. "Chris, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. God, you don't know how sorry." I didn't bother specifying what I was sorry for. Because I was sorry for all of it. Everything. Abandoning him, further disgracing our family name, Ace pulling that goddamn knife… He'd been wronged in so many ways on account of me. But he had to know I was sorry. We had to make this right.

"I know you're sorry," Chris breathed softly, eyes downcast at his feet. "I know you are." He looked back up at me, and it was in that instant that I realized how old - mature - he looked. His eyes held wisdom and sadness that I hadn't seen in anyone his age before. And he did look tired. Dark circles stood out against his pale face. "I just don't know if being sorry is enough."

I ran my hands through my hair and felt my eyes start to prick with tears. "Chris…"

"You should go." His voice was soft, but firm. He swallowed hard, turned, and stepped in the front door. He let the door close behind him, leaving me, alone and crushed, on the front porch.

* * *

I didn't move off that stoop. I couldn't. I was too numb.

I sunk down, my back against the door. I pulled Denny's cap out of my pocket, my gut already aching with regret. I should've done things differently. I should've been better.

I traced the New York Yankee's logo on Denny's cap with my thumb, over and over, letting tears slip down my face. I was scum. Chris knew it, I knew it. No wonder he wanted nothing to do with me.

But then something snapped me out of my self-pity fest. Something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

My father's voice, loud and threatening, reverberated through the front door. "Where the hell have you been, boy?" And then I heard a crash, followed by my mother's scream.

I was on my feet in a flash, flinging the door open with all my might. I bolted into the kitchen - that's where all the noise was coming from - and skidded to a halt when I laid eyes on the scene in front of me.

Chris was lying on the ground, having been thrown into one of our wooden kitchen chairs. The broken pieces of the chair where strewn all around him. He was curled in to a ball, his hands outstretched in front of him to block his face, as my father stood above him, kicking Chris in the gut, swaying drunkenly, and undoing his belt. My mother was standing by the doorway, watching.

All I saw was red, and to be honest, I don't remember much of what happened. One second I was in the doorway, the next, I had knocked my father to the ground before he knew what hit him. My mother's screams were just an afterthought.

I remember grabbing a pan off the stove and hitting Pop in the head with it. It knocked him unconscious, and then everything stopped.

Chris made a sound in the back of his throat. I wasn't sure if it was a moan or whimper, but either way, it drew me to him immediately. I dropped down beside him, cupping my hand behind his head, pulling him away from the debris of the broken chair.

I felt something hot on hand and drew it back, horrified that my palm was damp with blood. "Jesus Christ," I breathed. He must've hit his head on the table on his way down. I pulled Chris closer to my chest, feeling him tremble beneath my arms. I looked up at my mother who was still frozen at the door, and I vaguely noticed that she was sporting a black eye of her own. "How can you just stand there?" I spat at her.

She didn't say anything to me. She was looking at me like I was some kind of ghost. And hell, maybe that's all I was to her - after not coming around for so long. But still, that was no excuse for what she did next. She dropped down beside Pop, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Her priorities were clear as day. Unbelievable.

I swallowed down my anger, trying to focus on Christopher instead of my sorry excuse for parents. "C'mon, Chris," I said as gently as I could manage, giving him a light shake. "We need to get out of here."  _Before Pop comes around._

Chris nodded into my shoulder. "Okay," he whispered.

"Can you walk?"

Another nod.

"Alright, c'mon." I hoisted him up by the armpits and we shuffled out of our house without looking back.

* * *

Once outside, Chris stopped in his tracks and brought his hands to his head.

"Hey," I said lightly, putting a hand behind his back as he swayed. "You good?"

"Dizzy," he explained, blinking his eyes.

"Hop on my back, then," I said, kneeling down in front of him so he could get on. "I'll carry you." I wasn't wasting any time. I wanted to get Chris as far away from Pop as possible.

"No, I'm okay—" Chris tried to protest.

"Damnit Chris, just get on my back," I said sternly, looking at him over my shoulder.

And fortunately, my firmness worked. Chris put his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. "Where are you gonna take me?" he asked into the crevice of my neck as I started walking toward Ace's house.

"Somewhere safe."

* * *

"No," Chris whispered as he laid eyes on Ace's house. "You can't take me here."

"Chris, I would only bring you here if I knew it was safe," I told him. "Trust me on this, okay?"

Chris swallowed. "Okay," he breathed, but his arms tensed around my neck.

I opened the door to Ace's place slowly, praying that the other members of the gang weren't there. They weren't and I breathed a sigh of relief. Ace was there though, sitting on the couch, Brandy pulled into his face. They were… well, they were making out.

"Nice," I heard Chris mumble in my ear.

They looked up and pulled apart from each other once they became aware of our presence. "Oh hey, Eyeball," Ace said smugly as I let Chris down from my back. Ace's eyes flashed to Chris. "Hey, kid." It was the softest tone I'd ever heard come out of his mouth.

"Who's this little cutie?" Brandy asked, winking at Chris.

"Brandy, this is my kid brother, Christopher," I told her. "Chris, Brandy." I leaned over so I could whisper in Chris's ear. "You hang tight with Brandy for a minute," I told him. Then I straightened up. "Ace, I need to talk to you."

Chris grinned at me, obviously not bothered by spending a brief moment of alone time with the beautiful woman on Ace's couch. I pulled Ace into the kitchen.

"I can't believe you actually brought him here after what I pulled," Ace said, running his hands through his hair. "You sure know how to spice up the tension, eh Eyeball?"

"Look, I didn't have many other options," I told him. "Pop was on the warpath. This ain't gonna be a problem, is it?"

"No," Ace said quickly. "I figure it's the least I can do. He can stay here. Long as he wants."

Somehow, I'd figured as much.

* * *

I got Chris cleaned up in the bathroom. First, I made him put pressure on his head, but it turned out the bleeding had already stopped. That brought a lot of relief. He also claimed he wasn't dizzy anymore and he seemed to be functioning well enough that I didn't suspect an concussion.

"How're you doin'?" I asked, as I pulled his T-shirt off his head for him. I was just checking him for further injuries. I knew Pop had kicked him in the gut pretty good.

"Just peachy," he deadpanned. "You know, you don't have to be in here," he said. "I can clean myself up."

But I barely heard him. I was staring at his abdomen, where he was covered in red splotches. "Oh my god. Chris, what the hell?"

"What?" Chris asked, looking down. And then he chuckled when he realized what my reaction was to. "Oh," he said. "Leeches. We ran into some leeches."

"God, you're a fuckin' mess," I told him.

"Don't I know it."

* * *

After he'd taken a shower, I got Chris set up in the spare bedroom. He really did look exhausted, and since I was pretty certain he didn't have a concussion, I figured it would be okay to let him sleep.

I helped him into the cot. "It's not very comfortable," I told him. "That's why I'd come home some nights."

"Beats sleeping on the ground," Chris said, his eyes already starting to droop.

I chuckled lightly. "Get some sleep."

I had already turned out the light and was halfway out the door when Chris spoke my name.

"Hey, Richie."

I stopped in my tracks. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for fighting back," he said softly.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat. "Should've done it years ago," I said hoarsely, unable to help the regret seeping into my voice. Then I slipped out the door, letting it close behind me, afraid if I stayed in that room any longer, I'd dissolve into tears.

_You just have to do something to make him listen._  Denny's words echoed in my head, and I realized he was right. Actions speak louder than words. Standing up against my pop had gotten Chris's attention.

He was listening now.

And even though I knew he and I had a long way to go, a lot of trust to build back up, I knew that today had been a start. A good start.

We would fix this.

We would be okay.

 


	29. Chapter 29

"How's he doin'?" Ace asked me, distractedly, when I emerged from the bedroom. He had a cardboard box in front of him, and he was leafing through it. Brandy had gone into work.

Now that Chris was behind closed doors, safe and sleeping, my emotions were starting to catch up to me. I felt overwhelmed and just… tired. I swallowed hard before answering Ace. "Okay, I guess." I flopped down on the couch beside him with a heavy sigh.

"What about you?" Ace asked me, pushing the box away. "You good?"

I gave him a half shrug. "Not really," I admitted.

"Yeah," Ace said softly. "Me neither."

I glanced at him, surprised by his uncharacteristic display of empathy. And I could tell by the way he wouldn't look me in the eye, that he wasn't exactly comfortable with it either.

I cleared my throat gruffly, dismissing the tension between us. "What's that?" I asked, nodding at the box.

Ace didn't answer me. Instead, he set the box in my lap.

Letters. He'd kept all of Ray's letters. Envelopes and all.

"I never had you pegged as the sentimental type," I commented lightly, studying one of the envelopes. All of Ray's letters were addressed to Ace's work. No wonder I hadn't known any of this was going on.

"I'm not," Ace insisted coolly.

"Right," I said, the corners of my mouth twitching up. "Wow, he wrote to you a lot." There had to be 30+ envelopes in that box. "Did you go through and read all these?"

Ace shook his head. "I couldn't," he said hoarsely. "I read one and had to stop." He gave me a half-hearted smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Bet you didn't have me pegged for a pussy either."

"You're a lot of things, Ace, but a pussy ain't one of them."

I set the box back down on the milk crate, and focused my gaze on Ace's face. He looked exhausted. I had a feeling he'd kept Brandy busy last night, purposefully, to avoid getting any shut-eye. But he needed sleep now. That much I could see.

"Ace, you look like you could crash, man," I told him. I nodded toward his bedroom. "Maybe you should…"

"Don't be such a hypocrite, Eyeball," he retorted, meeting my eyes. And I knew my tired face mirrored his. "I ain't the only one who needs to crash." But he listened to me. He went into his bedroom to lie down.

Which meant I had the couch to myself.

* * *

I woke from my doze on the couch when Christopher got up to use the bathroom. I'd been out for nearly three hours.

I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes and yawned. I sat up, waiting for the kid to come out of the bathroom. I figured he must be hungry; he'd been camping the past two days and that meant he didn't have much access to food. And I knew he hadn't eaten anything so far today.

I decided to see what Ace had to eat in the kitchen.

He had some bread, and some cheese, and some bananas that were borderline rotten. I shrugged. At least I could manage a grilled cheese sandwich. I turned on the stove just as Chris emerged from the bathroom.

"Hey, kid," I acknowledged. "You hungry?"

He nodded. "Starving."

"Grilled cheese okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Chris said with a yawn as he took a seat at the table.

"You sleep okay?"

Another nod.

We were quiet until I'd finished his sandwich. I set it in front of him and then took a seat across from him at the table.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked me.

"I ate earlier," I lied. Truth was, I didn't have much of an appetite. There'd only been enough cheese for one sandwich anyway.

Chris took a big bite out of his sandwich, watching me as he chewed. There was some obvious tension in the air, and I was determined to clear it.

"I have some news," I announced.

Chris raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? What?"

"I got a job."

"You got a job?" Chris repeated, wide-eyed. He was grinning from ear to ear, and damn, it felt good to make him proud again. "Where?"

"The post office," I answered. "It's not a big gig or nothin'. I'll just be organizing mail and collapsing boxes, but I figure it's enough to keep me from… how did you put it? Moochin' off of Ace? I start tomorrow."

Chris chuckled. "That's great, Richie," he said sincerely. "Really."

I smiled back at him. "Thanks, kid."

At that moment, Ace started hollering from his bedroom. It was nonsensical hollering, and I immediately knew he was dreaming. Rather, having a nightmare.

"What the—?" Chris dropped his sandwich on his plate and looked over his shoulder at Ace's closed door.

I was on my feet in a flash. "Wait here," I told Chris, as I bolted into Ace's bedroom, flinging his door open.

Ace was tangled up in his blankets, visibly in distress as whatever he was seeing continued to play out in his dreams. I needed to wake him up. And fast.

"Ace," I said hopelessly from above him. I grabbed hold of his shoulder and shook. "Ace, wake up, man."

It took a while, but I was eventually able to get him to open his eyes. He sat up wildly, gasping for breath.

"Easy, man, you're okay," I said softly.

"Eyeball?" he breathed, his voice panicked. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer to him.

"Yeah, it's me," I said quickly. "Ace, breathe, dude."

"You're okay?" Ace asked me, ignoring my command as he continued to struggle for air.

I tilted my head at him. "Ace, I'm fine," I said firmly, kneeling down so I could meet his eyes. I wasn't the one he needed to be worried about. His face was paler than the moon. "What the hell were you dreaming about?"

Ace shook his head, as if it would be too horrible to even speak of, but it occurred to me that it could have been  _me_  he was dreaming of. Me, hurt, or missing, or killed. Why else would he be asking if I was okay?

Ace sat, frozen in his bed, taking in deep breaths and swallowing convulsively. And then, "Eyeball, I think I'm gonna be sick," he said weakly. He tried to get out of bed, but my hand on his shoulder kept him put.

"Don't get up. It's okay," I said, trying to stay calm. I reached for the trashcan by his nightstand, and put it in his lap. I helped him swing his legs over the side of the bed so he'd be a little more comfortable.

It wasn't long before Ace made good on his prediction. He heaved into the trashcan, one hand still clinging to my wrist, the other holding onto the bin. He vomited only twice; he hadn't had much in his stomach to begin with.

And that's when it happened.

Ace Merrill reached his breaking point.

He started sobbing. Uncontrollably. And I didn't know what the fuck to do.

I took the bin away from him and set it on the ground, well aware that my hands were shaking.

Because this wasn't how Ace Merrill was supposed to act. No, he was supposed to hold it together. No matter what was thrown at him.

And he knew that too. In his eyes, I could see the terror he was feeling from losing control, from being forced into this vulnerability against his will. He was shaking, more than I thought humanly possible. And his sobs… how they wracked in his chest… I thought he was going to choke on his on tears.

My best friend was broken.

"Ace, it's okay," I tried, but my words were powerless against the anguish he was expressing.

I just wanted him to stop. To calm down. To  _breathe_.

I positioned myself so I was sitting beside him. And, realizing that words weren't getting me anywhere, I had to resort to more drastic measures.

I pulled him in for a hug.

I cupped a hand behind his head and pulled him into my shoulder, feeling his hot tears start to soak through my T-shirt. I embraced him tightly, and he clung to me too. I didn't say anything else, I just hugged him. And let him cry.

Because that's what he needed.

Christopher appeared in the doorway during all of this, biting his lip, looking timid, bewildered, and hopeless - same as I felt. He'd fetched a glass of water for Ace and was holding it in his hand. I met his eyes in thanks, and nodded to the nightstand. Chris set the water down, and then exited the room, throwing me a worried glance over his shoulder.

When Ace finally settled down, it was out of exhaustion. His cries died out and he relaxed his hold on me.

"You good?" I asked cautiously.

A stupid question, really, but Ace nodded anyway, sniffing once and then pulling away. "Have me pegged as a pussy yet?" he asked meekly.

"Never," I told him simply, holding the glass of water out to him.

Ace took the water without protest, and managed half the glass before handing it back to me. Then he collapsed into his pillows, cheeks still streaked with tears.

"Go back to sleep, man," I told him, pulling the covers up to his chin. "I'll be right here."

But Ace was already on his way back into oblivion. Soft snores filled the room within minutes.

It wasn't until I was sure he was asleep that dared to move. I stood up and exited the bedroom, my heart heavy for my friend.

Chris was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. He looked up when the door closed behind me.

I let out a deep breath.

"We need to talk about Ace."


	30. Chapter 30

I joined Chris on the couch, wordlessly. I felt numb, my shirt still wet from the tears of my ordinarily rock-solid best friend.

Chris was watching me, wide-eyed.

I ran my hands through my hair and cleared my throat. "Chris, what you just saw… you can't…" I drew in a shaky breath. "You can't tell anybody." The last thing Ace needed was a ruined reputation.

"Yeah, I know that," Chris said softly. "But… is he okay?" He was genuinely troubled, that much I could I see. It wasn't just curiosity that shone in his eyes as he studied my face, looking for answers. It was pity, confusion, maybe even sadness.

I didn't understand how he could be so concerned for the well-being of Ace, especially after he'd been threatened with a knife not 24 hours ago. Hell, he and Ace were practically sworn enemies. And yet, here he sat, listening, with nothing but good intentions. My kid brother was a helluva guy.

I shrugged, mulling his question over. "Yeah, I think he will be," I decided heavily. "Him breaking down like that… It was a long time coming." I swallowed hard. "This hasn't been an easy week for him."

"Because he knew Ray," Chris whispered.

He didn't pose it as a question; he said it with certainty. I gaped at him, bewildered.  _How did he know that?_

"I-I looked through the box," he explained guiltily, nodding at the coffee table. "Rich, I had no idea…"

"Yeah, welcome to club," I mumbled under my breath. "I didn't even know Ace had been writing to the kid until he went missing."

Chris scratched the top of his head. "He keeps a lot to himself, huh?"

I snorted lightly. "You can say that again."

"He's had a rough life, hasn't he?"

"You don't know the half of it," I said hoarsely, feeling tears start to prick my eyes. "Look, Chris, I'm not trying to make Ace out to be a saint, because he's not. But the way he acts… the way he carries himself… there's a reason behind it, man. He doesn't want people to pity him."

Chris shifted in his seat, considering what I was saying. "That's why he acts so tough all the time?"

I nodded. "He pushes people away. Makes himself as untouchable as possible."

"He hasn't pushed you away," Chris commented softly.

I laughed lightly. "That doesn't mean he hasn't tried."

"Do  _you_  pity him?" Chris asked.

I didn't even have to think about my answer. "No," I told him firmly. "I respect him." I was quiet for a moment, and then I added: "Especially after this last year. It was hard. For both of us."

Chris frowned at me. "For both of you?"

I bit my lip, not sure if I wanted to elaborate, but I knew Chris wouldn't let it go. I'd already said too much.

"Rich, what are you talkin' about?"

I let out a deep breath. "I'm talking about Denny Lachance," I lamented.

Chris tilted his head at me. "Gordie's brother? You knew him?"

This was going to be hard. I swallowed. "Yeah, I knew him."

"How?" Chris wondered, astounded.

"He was my geometry tutor."

Chris raised his eyebrows. "You had a geometry tutor? No way, I don't believe that."

"I had to get one after Bates caught me cheating on a test," I clarified sheepishly. "I didn't seek him out or nothin'."

"Okay, well now it's starting to make a little more sense…" Chris said, tongue-in-cheek. He smiled sadly at me. "Denny was a pretty good guy, huh?"

I nodded. "The best." My voice cracked at those words and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. But I didn't bother wiping it away. Chris had already witnessed one Cobra lose it today. Might as well keep the ball rolling.

"Tell me about him," Chris said softly.

"What?" I croaked. I was starting to feel a little lightheaded.

"Tell me about Denny," he repeated gently. And then he did a funny thing. He reached out to put his hand on my knee: a reassuring gesture. "I think you need to talk about him."

I sunk into the couch, my face hot. "Chris, I-I don't know if—"

"Try," he interrupted simply. He took his hand off my knee and shifted so he was sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing me. It was clear I had his complete, undivided attention.

Once I had the courage to start talking, the words flew out of me easily. I told Chris everything I remembered about Denny. How I was ill the first day I met him and how he offered to drive me home. How he showed up on the doorstep after Ace's grandmother died, asking us to come play football. How he called me 'Richard' instead of 'Eyeball.' How he took me up to that hill after I'd been beaten to a pulp by pop.

"He made me want to be better," I told Chris. "He made me feel like—"

"Like you were worth something," Chris finished for me softly.

"Yeah," I said, puzzled that he'd known what I was going to say. "How'd you know?"

"Because Gordie's the same way."

"Oh." I smiled slightly to myself. If anything, I was glad Christopher had his very own "Denny" to keep him afloat.

I told Chris how Denny had gotten me started thinking about my future. I told him about the goals I'd set for myself: graduating, finding a job, mending our relationship. "But then Denny died," I said, not able to help the tears as they spilled out of my eyes. "And I lost sight of all of that. I fell back into the same old routine."

"Then what made you show up this morning?" Chris asked.

"Seeing Ray," I answered over the lump in my throat. "Seeing that boy. Chris, if that had been you…" I trailed off, not able to complete the horrid thought, but he knew what I was getting at. I cleared my throat gruffly and wiped my tears away with my sleeve. "You know, I almost chickened out of coming to see you this morning. I knew you wouldn't want anything to do with me, and I couldn't blame you. But Ace told me I had to try. He's the real reason I showed up."

Chris raised his eyebrows. "No kiddin'?"

"No kiddin'."

We fell silent after that. It felt good, getting all of this off my chest. And talking about Denny had been surprisingly therapeutic. I glanced over at Christopher, wondering what was going on in that head of his. I was about to ask him when he spoke:

"I'm sorry I called you a coward, Rich," he said shyly.

He looked up at me and we locked eyes. "I'm sorry I gave you a reason to."

* * *

Ace and I never talked about what happened that day again. In fact, the next morning, he acted as if nothing had happened. And I played along.

He got up around the same time Chris and I did and started getting ready for work. When I asked him if he was sure he was okay to go into work, he told me to stop being such a pansy, in true Ace Merrill fashion. But I had a feeling he just wanted to feel normal again.

Christopher was starting junior high that morning. Realizing his school was on the way to my new job at the post office, I offered to walk with him.

"Is it okay if we pick Gordie up on the way?" he asked unsurely. "I told him I'd meet up with him."

I smiled. "Sure, kid." I had something I needed to give back to Lachance, anyway.

* * *

Chris and I stopped outside of the Lachances' house to pick up Gordie. It was hard being there. Denny's blue Coupe de Ville was still parked out front, and that sent shivers up and down my spine. I wondered vaguely if the car belonged to Gordie now.

Chris whistled for Gordie to let him know he was there, and Gordie emerged from his house just seconds later. He had a big grin on his face until he caught sight of me.

He approached us carefully, looking me up and down. Then he looked to Chris, questioningly.

"It's okay," Chris told him earnestly. "Richie's gonna walk with us to school. He starts a job at the post office today."

Gordie glanced back to me, eyes wide, still looking a little unsure. I couldn't get over how much he looked like Denny.

And then I remembered.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out Denny's Yankees cap. I held it out to the kid, sort of like a peace offering. I cleared my throat. "I, uh— I think this belongs to you," I said nervously.

I saw Gordie's face light up when he laid eyes on the cap. He took it from me, examining it thoroughly. He'd probably thought he'd never see it again. "Thanks," he said, grinning from ear to ear. He put the cap on his head and looked back up at me. He held my gaze for a long time before speaking again. "I saw you, you know," he said finally.

I didn't know what he was talking about. "Huh?"

"The night of Denny's funeral. I saw you at the graveyard. You were the one paying your respects at sundown."

"Yeah," I said hoarsely. "That was me." I remembered having the sensation that I was being watched that night. That's because I had been.

Gordie was staring at me now, as if he was seeing me in a way he hadn't before. I knew that look. It was the same one Chris had given me yesterday. It was a good look to be on the receiving end of.

Chris cleared his throat. "We should probably get moving," he said softly.

Gordie nodded. He gave me a shy smile before turning on his heel and starting the walk to school. Chris and I followed closely behind.

* * *

When we arrived at the school, Chris hung back with me while Gordie went on inside.

"I guess this is it," Chris said, eyeing the school anxiously. He'd told me last night that he was going into some advanced classes with Gordie and he was mighty nervous about them.

"You'll be great, man." I jammed my hands in my pockets and rocked back and forth on my feet. "Don't be afraid to raise a little hell. You are a Chambers kid, after all." I winked at him.

Chris laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'll raise  _plenty_  of hell."

Chris told me last night that he was going to keep living at home so he could look after Ma.  _You saw what happens when I'm not there,_  he'd said, and I shuddered as I remembered her black eye. But Chris also promised me he'd get out if it ever got too bad. He knew he had a place to stay if he needed it.

"Good luck today," Chris said.

"Thanks, kid. When I get my first paycheck, I'll take you out to eat." I definitely didn't want him to be a stranger.

Chris grinned. "I'm holding you to that." He held his arm out. "Give me some skin."

I gaped at his outstretched arm in awe. Chris had never asked me to "give him some skin." It was a handshake that he and his closest friends did. It was something they held sacred. I was honored that he'd asked me.

I put my arm out and went through the motion.

"I'll see you soon," he said, looking me right in the eye.

I nodded. "Real soon."

As I watched my little brother climb the steps to his new school, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time; I felt happy.

I smiled to myself as I looked up at the sky.

"Thank you," I whispered.

I hope Lachance heard me.

**Fin.**


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